


every version of me

by sunshinesrose



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Newt (Maze Runner) Lives, and it's basically me fixing it, and other maze runner characters, newt lives because i said so, this fic is set 3 months after they get to the safe haven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29513196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinesrose/pseuds/sunshinesrose
Summary: The curtains are yellow. Thomas doesn’t know why this strikes him as strange - maybe because he’s never had curtains before, or not that he can remember, or maybe just because yellow reminds him too much of blond hair and brown eyes.or where newt lives because i said so
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 84





	1. oh, today i'm just a drop of water

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been my baby for at least a month now, and I'm so happy I can finally share it with you all!
> 
> So, dedications:  
> a HUGE thank you to my beta reader, https://shuckiestshuckfacedshank.tumblr.com, who has basically helped me come up with the entire plot for this fic and pointed out the painfully obvious grammatical errors i made whilst writing at 1am. she is a godsend and you should all go follow her (and look at her content 'cause it's hilarious) 
> 
> thank you so much to my best friend d, who read each chapter as it came out and got mad at me for rewriting the first kiss, though she said that the actual first kiss was much better. thanks, d, for putting up with me and i'm so glad you like it!
> 
> and lastly, this fic is dedicated to my beautiful girlfriend dia - though all my fics are dedicated to her, because she means everything to me. i love you so much, dee, and i definitely projected our relationship here.
> 
> okay, enough grovelling. go have fun reading this fic! i'll preface with a trigger warning here for canon typical violence, panic attacks and dissociation, and if you find anything else that needs a trigger warning, just let me know! 
> 
> if you would like to use echo (oc) in any fic, please reach out before doing so and check that it's okay <3
> 
> if you like it or hate it, come shout at me on tumblr: https://sunshinesrose.tumblr.com

The curtains are yellow. Thomas doesn’t know why this strikes him as strange - maybe because he’s never had curtains before, or not that he can remember, or maybe just because yellow reminds him too much of blond hair and brown eyes.

For a split second when Thomas jolts awake, he doesn’t remember that Newt is dead. He turns to reach out for his friend and then the grief slices through him, waking him up in seconds when his memories come rushing back to him.

He staggers out of the bed, pressing a hand to his temple in an attempt to ease the headache that’s already pounding even though he’s only just woken up. Minho and Frypan are both gone. Gally too, but Thomas, for what feels like the first time in years, doesn’t panic about their whereabouts.

They’ve been in the Safe Haven for three months. Newt’s been _dead_ for three months. Teresa, too. Nobody talks about them, at least not to Thomas, anyway. He imagines that the others do, sometimes, but he’s never been included in those conversations and he’s grateful for it. He still doesn’t know what he’d do if someone said their names aloud.

He heads out from the small hut which houses the four remaining gladers and shields his eyes from the sun, peering onto the horizon. They have guards who patrol at night, watching the horizon for the tiniest sun that WCKD may have found them, but nothing’s ever been seen.

They had cut the trackers out of all the kids they’d rescued a day or so after Thomas had woken up, but if he’s honest, he doubts WCKD even still exists. The city had been a wreck when they had left and if anyone is still alive, they’d be long gone from the city.

Sonya had taken charge of the tracker removal, operating as one of the Safe Haven’s few doctors. She’s caring, kind; just like her brother. He doesn’t know who discovered Sonya or when she was told about Newt, only that one night, during the evening meal, she’d come up to him and thanked him for looking after her brother. Thomas had had to excuse himself, and he’d cried in the forest until Brenda found him.

His feet walk him down to the rock covered in the names, and his hand comes up to brush across Newt’s, like he does everyday. Sometimes he’ll talk to the others - he apologises to Alby over and over, to Winston and Ben. He cries at Chuck’s name, and sometimes, Gally joins him. He’s even looked at her name once or twice. It’s difficult, when he’s so conflicted about how he felt about her, but he’s spent some time remembering her, too.

Newt is the only one who he talks to everyday. He’s sure that half of the Safe Haven think he’s completely insane. A ‘nutter’, as Newt would have said.

He walks into the kitchen, eager to find Frypan. Thomas was surprised at first, how eager Frypan was to get back to the role of cook, but he guesses that some part of his friend just wants to return back to the Glade. Despite the Grievers and the death, Thomas imagines that the Glade is one of Frypan’s happiest memories.

He wishes that he had had more time there. He forgets sometimes, how much more memories Gally and Frypan and Minho have of Newt, of each other. How much more time they got and how much better they know each other. He doesn’t dwell on it. After all, it was him who sent them there in the first place.

“Hey, Fry.” He greets easily, sitting down beside where Frypan is bent over, cutting some onions into small pieces. Aris, surprisingly, had taken a quick lead in starting up the little farm they have, and was quick to form a group of farmers out of the kids they rescued from WCKD. He still reminds Thomas of Chuck, and Thomas can’t help but love the kid.

“S’up, Thomas?” Frypan responds, wordlessly handing Thomas an apple and leaning down to press his hand into Thomas’s shoulder, a comfort. An unspoken reassurance that Frypan’s there, that he’s not going anywhere. It’s something that Thomas’s friends have started doing, even if they pretend like they don’t know that he knows.

Thomas isn’t one to bullshit, and he knows Fry will never expect him too, so he cuts in quickly. “Do you think about him?”

They don’t need to speak to say who he is. Though their deaths never get any easier, Thomas can speak his other friends names aloud. He hasn’t spoken Newt’s name since he died. He doesn’t know why - maybe it’s because if he did, it would be too much like giving up, like admitting that Newt was really dead.

A few days after he had woken up, Thomas had begged with Vince to drive the Berg back to the Last City, to go and look for Newt. He had cried and swore and punched things when Vince had tried to calmly explain that they could only make a trip when they needed supplies. It was too risky, otherwise.

Thomas hadn’t spoken to him for a week, but Vince, like always, hadn’t taken it personally. He’d wordlessly accepted Thomas’s apology with a cuff on the shoulder and a slice of apple, Thomas’s favourite fruit. The prospect of a trip had never been discussed again.

“Every day, man. I dream about him, too.” Frypan sets aside his knife and comes to sit beside Thomas, though makes no move to touch him, sensing that Thomas is somewhat wound up.

“I never told him, you know. That I-“ Thomas can’t even say it. He has no idea why he’s suddenly blurting this all out.

“You loved him?”

He turns to look at Frypan in shock, his eyes wide. Frypan laughs, then, and Thomas can’t help but relax at the sound, looking at one of his closest friends in such a calm state. It makes a nice difference from the expression of fear he’s become so accustomed to seeing on Frypan’s face.

“You’re kinda obvious, man, in case you didn’t realise.” Frypan shifts a little then, and plays with the knife in his hand, like he’s hesitating to say something.

“What?” Thomas prompts, hope clawing at his chest. The pain is so much he almost shouts out, the prospect of something, of any kind of information about Newt. He’s never approached Minho, asking for his best friend to reveal any of his memories about Newt. Those are private, and Thomas would never dream of asking Minho to give him one of the few things he has left from Newt.

He has surprised himself, though, in approaching Gally, and asking him to share stories about Newt. He likes Gally well enough now to let him in. Thomas gave up on grudges a long time ago. The only hatred he still has in his heart is towards WCKD, to Janson. He can’t bear holding anything else in.

Gally had been surprised at first, though not reluctant, and had obliged, recalling various tales of Newt back in the Glade. He told Thomas stories about Newt getting so drunk he’d tried to ride one of the goats, or of Newt and Alby having a week long stand off about who could eat the most of Frypan’s stew in one go. Gally never broaches the sadder memories - the ones about Newt’s limp, or what Newt was like after he jumped from the walls. Thomas has never asked him to.

Frypan startles him back to reality with a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Thomas is suddenly filled with such a rush of affection towards Fry that he almost has to put his head between his knees and force himself to breathe.

“He knew, buddy. Newt knew you loved him.” Frypan whispers, though his voice rings clear in the quiet kitchen. A couple of the kids had been working in there when Thomas had arrived, but had all quickly dispersed when he’d come to talk to Frypan. “I think he loved you, too. But no matter what, he knew that you cared about him.”

Thomas starts crying, then. Frypan just pulls him into a hug and doesn’t say anything and Thomas appreciates him more than he can verbalise. They sit there, together, for a long moment, until Thomas eventually has the strength to stand.

Later, he goes to the bonfire. He had spent the rest of the day working alongside Harriet in scouting the island. He appreciates her quiet way of working and that she doesn’t ask any questions. She whistles whilst she walks and he’s glad, at least, that she got the two most important people back to her. He sees how she and Sonya look at each other, but has to turn away whenever he sees it.

Whenever he looks at Sonya, he sees Newt. He likes her, a lot, but sometimes being around her is too much for him and he has to stand up halfway through conversations and hastily excuse himself. He imagines he’s building quite the reputation, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

He sits down beside Minho and wordlessly offers his best friend a drink. On the really bad days, the days where Thomas wakes up screaming in the night and can barely breathe all day, Minho is there. A constant, underlying force right beside Thomas.

Thomas’s need for Minho is so strong that the often wonders what he would do if anything happened to him; and quickly removes the thought from his mind because the prospect of that happening is too painful for him to bear.

It’s then that Brenda comes to sit beside him, and, like he does, comes straight out with what she wants to say. “Thomas, it’s the supply run this month. Jorge and I volunteered. We wanted to see if maybe you’d like to come, too.”

Thomas is shaking his head before he can even think. “No. Uh- sorry, Bren. I just- I don’t think I can go back there. Not yet, anyway. Vince was right not to let me when I asked first.” He confesses. She nods, a small smile on her face. She’s never needed an explanation from him, and Thomas knows she won’t ever ask him for one unless he offers it first.

“Sure, Thomas. Jorge’ll be mad you’re not there to take charge of the radio.” It always amuses Thomas how one of the WCKD soldiers had left a radio in the Berg, loaded up with songs. It’s such a normal thing to do that Thomas hadn’t believed it when Jorge had told him.

Jorge spends more and more time with Thomas. Thomas is glad about it. He doesn’t know when or why, but somewhere along the way he started to see Jorge as his family. Of course, the Gladers were always the only family he’d ever had, but Jorge and Brenda had been a little more complicated. Thomas had loved Brenda, once, but had quickly realised it was simply as a friend and nothing more.

Jorge, over time, has become the closest thing to a father that Thomas has. He has Vince, of course, but Jorge has saved Thomas’s ass more times than he cares to admit. He came back for Thomas even when he didn’t have to. It is loyalty that Thomas can’t ignore, and he knows that Jorge will always be there when things go awry.

But even so, Thomas can’t go with them to the city. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to go back there, if he’s being completely honest with himself. Every time he shuts his eyes, he sees Newt lunging at him, his eyes completely black and veins prominent. If he had to go back there in person, he thinks he might never be able to leave.

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning, okay? If you change your mind.” Brenda doesn’t push, just gives him the offer without any expectation that he’ll take her up on it. Neither of them speak, but they both know Thomas isn’t going to go. He’s grateful that she pretends, all the same.

He nods his thanks, and she turns to leave, obviously deciding to leave him alone with Minho for a while. They don’t talk; Minho and he have never needed to talk in order for Thomas to feel comfortable. They just sit in silence and Thomas lets the sound of the waves roll over him.

—

That night, he wakes up screaming. When he looks down at his hands, he can almost see the blood staining them - Chuck’s blood, Newt’s, the blood of all of his friends; all of it was his fault.

He can’t _breathe_. His breath comes in short, wheezing bursts but he can feel his heartbeat picking up so much that he almost feels like he might die. He can’t even shout for help because his breath is so shallow he doesn’t think he could even speak if he tried.

He’s going to die. He made it to the Safe Haven and he’s going to die because he can’t breathe. And it’ll what he deserves.

Thomas tries to stand but he can scarcely function and all he can hear is Newt’s voice on a loop in his head, every memory he’s ever had of Newt flooding and merging into one.

“-mas! Thomas, hey, you’re okay.” Minho, he identifies. Minho grabs him and helps lower him onto the floor. Vaguely, he wonders if Minho was already awake, or if his friend was someone just attuned enough to know that Thomas wasn’t asleep.

He imagines it would have been hard to ignore his screaming, though, since he’s acutely aware of Frypan and Gally, both staring at him from their respective bunks. The first couple of nights, all three of them had woken up at his screams and had crowded, trying to figure out what was wrong, but after a while, Fry and Gally know that in those moments, Thomas only wants Minho.

Minho doesn’t ask if he’s okay, just sits down on the floor beside him, and lets Thomas lean into his shoulder whilst he cries. Minho doesn’t complain, doesn’t try to make it better; he’s just there, quietly waiting beside Thomas until he can breathe again.

Fry and Gally fall back asleep, but Minho stays awake with him until the early hours, rubbing soothing circles onto his back until Thomas eventually calms down enough that he can talk.

“Sorry.”

Minho punches him in the arm. “Don’t start any of that klunk with me.”

“Sorry, Minho.”

Minho turns and gives him a fierce look, though Thomas can tell there’s no malice behind it. At least Minho isn’t treating him like he’s made of glass, which is the way half of the immune kids do. Ever since they came back from WCKD, Thomas can’t walk to the kitchen without feeling eyes on him. He supposes they’re entitled to a bit of gawping - after all, he keeps them up all night with his screams.

Sunlight filters into the room, casting a warm orange glow onto Minho’s face. In the corner, Frypan rolls over and mutters something softly, and Thomas turns to look at Minho. There are dark half moons underneath his eyes and he looks as though he hasn’t slept properly in a long time.

“You didn’t have to stay up with me.” Thomas says softly, playing absentmindedly with the rip in his light green trousers.

“I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

Thomas turns to look at Minho, and, for the first time in a while, he feels like he’s actually seeing his friend. He feels awful, then, for how much Minho’s been there for him, and how little help Thomas has been in making sure his friend was okay.

“Don’t do that. I can see you overthinking this.” Minho cuts in, nudging Thomas in the shoulder. “Newt used to say that all the time. He was always going on at me about how much you overthink.” Minho teases, and Thomas is amazed at his ability to say Newt’s name so casually. But he’s known Minho long enough that he can see the pain in his friend’s eyes.

“He was?”

“Yeah,” Minho nods, and stands up as movement starts up outside their tent, the sound of the rest of the Safe Haven beginning to move. In the corner, Frypan starts moving, obviously readying himself for the breakfast rush. “Come on, let’s go.”

Thomas follows Minho out the hut, and feels his heart leap into his chest when he sees that Minho is guiding them towards the rock. The one that Thomas visits every single morning.

Minho sits down on one of the wooden benches and Thomas follows him easily, sitting a palm’s distance away.

It takes him a minute, but he eventually plucks up the courage to voice what he’s thinking about. “Do you forgive her?”

Minho looks at him with a guarded expression, as though he isn’t quite sure how Thomas wants him to reply. If Thomas is honest, he doesn’t know either.

“No.” Minho’s voice is soft, barely audible, but Thomas doesn’t push, just waits for his friend to continue. “I didn’t want her to die. She was my friend, once. But I also can’t figure her for what she put me through. She stood by and watched me get tortured, day after day by them. I’ll never be able to forgive her for that.”

Thomas nods, pulling Chuck’s figurine out of his pocket and rolling it over in his hands. He was sort of expecting that reply, and isn’t shocked to hear that Minho can’t forgive her.

“I know you still care about her. But you can’t ask me to forgive her, just like I won’t ask you to forget.”

“I know. I’m - I just wanted to know.” There’s no tension, even though the conversation should have been riddled with it. Had it been anyone else, perhaps Thomas would had felt some kind of anger, but when it’s Minho, he just feels calm.

The sound of the Berg cuts across the beach, and they both turn to look at where it’s preparing to take off. If he ran, he could just about make it, but he knows that he would only slow them down. Even the sight of the city would be too much.

“Come on. Let’s go irritate Aris.” Minho offers, tugging Thomas towards the farm where he can see Aris working on a water irrigation system, and Thomas can almost feel Minho’s brain whirring with a variety of ways to cause some lighthearted trouble.

His heart clenches and unclenches as the Berg takes off, but he doesn’t look back.

Instead, he walks over and flicks a bit of water at Aris, allowing the laughter to take him away from the thought of Newt’s body in the city.

It helps, a little. Being here with his friends, knowing that at least he kept his promise to Alby, in some ways. He got some of them out. He only hopes it would have been good enough.

With the sun on his face, Thomas lets himself take a breath. For a beat, he feels somewhat okay.


	2. and i'm running down a mountainside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first Newt POV! let me know what you think of echo because i toyed with using an original character. usually i won't, but i felt she fitted here.
> 
> please let me know what you think in the comments, or just leave a kudos! alternatively, come shout at me on tumblr, @sunshinesrose. a reminder that if you would like to mention or use echo in a fic, please reach out to me first!

Newt doesn’t remember dying. Only that one minute he was there, grasping at his last string of clarity as he stared at Thomas, fighting the urge to lash out at him. The next, he remembers the pain exploding in his chest as the knife went in, and then, finally, nothing.

He hadn’t been scared. It had hurt, but it had been a pain Newt had needed. He remembers the feeling of peace that had rushed over him as he fell to the floor. He had felt completely at peace with what had happened, and had accepted death like the hug of an old friend.

A few days later, he had startled awake. Crouched over him had been a woman; well, a girl. She’d looked scarcely older than him. Pretty, with thick eyebrows and dark skin, long braids which reach her waist, and a kind but fierce look about her that reminded him of Teresa.

He casts a glance over to the girl - Echo, she had told him - and finds she’s already looking back at him. Newt has no idea why she’d bothered to help him in the first place, or how he was even still alive, but for some reason, Echo had decided to help him. It’s a shocking kindness that Newt isn’t used to, not in his world, and he’s still half waiting for her to check in the debt he undoubtedly owes her.

“Staring.” Echo mutters, turning over something in her hands. She approaches him, leaning down and cleaning his wounds with something that stings, and Newt hisses, shutting his eyes to block out the sharp stabbing feeling.

“Well, it’s a bit bloody boring being confined to this bed.” Newt replies easily. He’s not sure exactly how long he’s been in the small room, only that it must have been at least two weeks. His grasp on time is loose, and wherever they are only has a small window for sunlight, so he only wakes up when the sun does. “How long have I been here, anyway?” 

Echo hesitates and he can see her debating on what to say to him. He wants to press her further, asking who she is, why she’s helping him, how he’s even alive but he figures he’s not going to get any answers if he bombards her with too many questions at once.

“Two, maybe three weeks. Honestly, I was pretty sure you were dead for the first couple days but I felt like I owed it to them to give you a burial, in any case.”

This gets Newt’s attention. “Owed it to who?” He asks, pushing himself up onto his forearms and looking over at her, feeling a pang in his chest at the way her expression looks so much like Thomas.

Thomas.

Newt rarely lets himself think of Thomas. If he does, it’s too painful. He has no idea if he even made it out alive, and the thought of Thomas being dead is too much for him to bear. In his head, late at night, he imagines Thomas in the Safe Haven with the others. The location is abstract, but the idea is clear. Thomas is safe, and so are the rest of their friends.

Some nights, when he’s feeling generous, he even lets Teresa be there, too.

“Your friends. The ones who got Lawrence access to the inside.” Echo explains and Newt feels something cold wash over him at the mention of Lawrence’s name. He often feels guilty, when he thinks about how many innocent people died in the raid of the city.

“You were there? With Lawrence?”

She nods, taking a seat on a chair a couple of feet away from the bed. “I knew your friend, Gally, pretty well. Kind of a dick sometimes, but I liked him.”

“Do you know if they made it?”

Echo gives him a sort of sad smile and shakes her head. “No. Last thing I heard was some girl speaking on the overhead announcements, speaking to someone called Thomas. Couple days later, after it died down, I came in looking for supplies. Found your body and recognised you.”

“Wait - the girl. What was she saying?”

Echo shrugs, packing up her medical supplies into a small blue pouch and handing Newt a bottle of water. “Dunno. Bunch of medical stuff. She just kept saying that Thomas’s blood was the cure. That there was still time to save you.”

  
Newt has to lie back, feeling a rush of nausea so strong he almost throws up. Of course Thomas’s blood had been the cure. It seems that no matter what, Thomas is always going to be the one who saves him.

“When did you last go back into the city?”

Grimacing, she stands and opens up one of the cupboards at the edge of the room. “S’been too long. We’re running low on supplies. It’s pretty safe, not too many cranks, and I really doubt any of WCKD’s guards survived.”

“Let’s go. My wound’ll be fine, thanks to you. But I - we’ve gotta go back there.”

“You’re in no shape for traipsing around the city and you know it. You stay put and I’ll head out, maybe later today, maybe tomorrow.”

“I have to go.” Newt says, surprising himself at the firmness in his tone. He’s not felt angry since he died, all traces of the Flare seemingly gone. It’s hard to remember how angry he felt back then, how every little thing ticked him off. Any negative emotion was too much to bear; jealousy, fear, panic, and each had sent him spiralling. Now, at least, he has a control over it.

He clears his throat and swing his legs onto the floor, pretending like his vision doesn’t swim as he does it. “Echo, I have to know. I need to know if they made it.”

Surprisingly, she doesn’t fight him on it, and Newt’s glad for it. “Suit yourself. Least it means I don’t have to deal with your shit anymore. Literally.”

He colours a little at how vulnerable he had been in front of her, but shakes it off as quickly as he can. He owes her, that much is obvious, and somehow, he’ll give her what he owes her.

The two ready themselves in silence, Newt tying up his laces with blissfully steady hands and Echo loading up two guns, one of which she turns to chuck at Newt when he’s finished getting ready.

“I like you, Newt, but if I see a crank I’ll leave your ass for dead.” Newt grins in response. He knows that her words are the truth, and he actually enjoys her brutal honest. At least she doesn’t pretend like they trust each other, because she doesn’t trust him and Newt doesn’t trust her.

However, there’s an underlying respect between them, and Newt finds himself quite drawn to her, even if half their time together was spent with him incapacitated.

He can’t help but gawp at the outside world when they step outside into the heat. It’s not too hot, pleasant enough, but the rubble around them shocks Newt into paying attention. He can see a couple of people milling around, but they don’t look all that well, and it’s obvious to him that they’re barely surviving from the aftermath of the attack.

An uneasy feeling shoots through him as he ponders it. If the city is in such a state, why would Echo willingly take someone in that she doesn’t know, someone who would serve only to deplete her resources? He eyes her then, a familiar feeling of distrust creeping into his gut as he subtly puts a little bit of distance between him and her.

They advance further towards the city - or what’s left of it, anyway. Newt feels some kind of deja-vu run over him at the familiar surroundings, though they’re in a much worse state than he remembers it. He watches Echo steadily, gun ready at his side as he takes note of the lack of food stores that had been up and running when he had been there before.

In a moment of panicked impulsiveness, he rushes forward and presses the gun into the small of her back, forcing her up against a wall before he points the gun into at her, taking a couple of steps back and pretending as if it doesn’t aggravate his limp.

“Are you WCKD? Why the buggin’ hell are you helping me out? You said yourself, you’ve got not loyalty to me. What’s in it for you?”

Echo swears under her breath, a look of uncharacteristic anger rushing over her face. “Screw you, man, seriously. This is the thanks I get after cleaning you up for three weeks?” She spits at him, but calms down just as quickly, and raises her hands as though trying to calm him down.

“Come on, Echo. Why are you really helping me?

“Because. Your friend asked me to.”

“Gally?”

She shakes her head. “No. The brunet. Tommy?” She pulls something out of her pocket and Newt catches sight of a photo. It looks like it could be a girl, though he’s not sure. “He promised me and my sister a ticket to some kind of safe place if I watched out for you.”

Something tugs at Newt when he hears the nickname, and he has to clench his jaw to stop himself from crying. He lowers his gun, at least, and mutters an apology to her. “I didn’t mean - why’d he ask you to watch out for me?”

“I don’t know, dude. He said he was worried about you. Wanted to have someone waiting for you in case something happened to you.”

Newt does cry, then, with a single tear rolling down his cheek. He reaches up angrily to brush it away and feels something like anger gnaw at him when he realises how much effort Thomas put into keeping him safe, and now he doesn’t even know if he made it out alive.

He never told him that he loved him. If he is alive, Newt hopes Thomas has read the letter. Hopes that he’s deciphered the heading message behind ‘I would follow you anywhere.’ Surely, he thinks, even Tommy can’t be that oblivious to not realise it’s Newt’s way of telling Thomas that he loves him.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” He apologises again, and Echo shrugs it off, but he notices that she looks a little more uneasy. “Here.” He extends the gun out to her, as a sort of olive branch.

She shakes her head, but the ghost of a smile is back on her face. “Keep it. That dodgy leg of yours won’t do you any favours and you’ll need that gun if we meet any friends.”

He laughs and nods, and then they continue walking into the expanse of the city, an easy natural pace developing. They don’t speak, aside from the occasional comment. With each sarcastic remark, he’s reminded more and more of Minho. He can only hope that Minho’s still alive. All of it will be worth it if he is.

The two quietly continue making their way through the city. It’s quiet, the only sound being the occasional low hum of the buildings shifting. The sun is warm and beats down on his back, but doesn’t feel as bad as it had been back in the Scorch. He wonders if maybe something’s happened to make the sun go back to normal; like somehow, it knew that most of humanity was gone.

Newt wonders what’s going on in the rest of the world. He, of course, must have come from elsewhere once, on account of his accent, though he can’t conjure up the name of some other place no matter how hard he tries.

“Do you know of any other places? Like, over the sea from here?”

Echo shakes her head, reaching down to pick up a lone gun on the floor, and pockets it when she sees it is loaded. “Nope. No idea. Guess you must be from one of them with that accent.”

“But from where, though?”

She opens her mouth to reply, but is cut off by the sound of a building falling in the distance. The sound it gives off almost shakes the ground beneath them and the familiar feeling of unease creeps back into him. “We should keep moving. The buildings aren’t steady here.”

She nods her agreement, and gestures for him to follow her further into the city. “We need to try and get some food, and then we’ll leave.”

He mutters his agreement and the two end up standing outside what looks like it used to be a simple food shop. It’s been crushed somewhat by a building above it falling, but a small entrance is still available there, and Newt regards it distrustfully when Echo starts climbing in.

“Wait, Echo, I don’t know how stable this thing is.”

“It’s this or starve to death.”

A fair point, he concedes, and follows her inside. Dumb luck has somehow got him this far, and Newt figures if he just keeps using it, he might just make it out alive. “What’s your plan, though? Where are we going?”

Echo looks back at him and he feels a little disheartened at the obvious expression that suggests she has no idea what the best course of action is. She shrugs, and begins overturning some of the fallen over boxes in an attempt to find some food.

“I was hoping that maybe you’d have an idea when you woke up.” Echo makes a noise of appreciation when she finds a small box of granola bars. “I haven’t seen anyone here for a long time, but - well, I guess I was hoping your friends might come back.”

Newt shakes his head, picking out some of the cans of beans and putting them into his backpack. “They won’t. They saw my body.”

Before Echo can even reply, Newt hears the sound of something overhead and before he can even react, something crashes above their heads and then a large block of something falls down, a few feet away from Echo.

She jumps to the side and they exchange an almost comical look of identical horror. Echo grabs the last of the bars on the floor and shoves them into her backpack, before the two of them make a mad dash to the exit.

Another piece of building falls down besides Newt, grazing the side of his leg. He cries out at the pain but continues running forward, his feet pushing him closer towards the exit. The opening is getting smaller, becoming covered by rubble, and Newt pushes Echo out first, his hands flat against her back before he crawls forward on his stomach.

The two of them gasp for air, crawling backwards away and watching as the entrance becomes smaller and smaller until it’s completely covered.

“Shit.” Echo sums the situation up with a single word and Newt can’t help but bark out a laugh at it, it reminds him so much of Minho, again. He and Echo are pretty similar in that respect and it makes him a little more inclined to trust her.

He feels bad, still, about his earlier reaction to her, and figures he should probably apologise, but his experiences have made him hardened to others and Newt finds it hard to trust anyone but Thomas, Fry and Minho. Found it hard, he supposes, since he doesn’t really think he’ll ever see his friends again.

He’s sort of envious of Echo for how well she probably got to know Gally. Gally, who had once been one of Newt’s best friends. Newt had only just got him back when he’d lost him again, and he feels a sudden sense of jealousy towards Echo for all the time she got with Gally that he didn’t.

“Newt, look.” Echo suddenly shouts, and points upwards. Newt shields his eyes, feeling the winds from what looks to be a Berg above them.

The Berg hovers overhead before flying a few feet off and landing in one of the large open areas, what Newt imagines was once quite a nice park. He doubts anyone had any dogs in the Last City, but if they had, it would’ve been a nice place to take them.

The large opening pad of the Berg opens and he immediately reaches for his gun, ready for a battle. He’d thought WCKD were all dead but it seems that, as usual, he just can’t seem to catch a break. Maybe WCKD will never really leave him alone. If that’s true, Newt thinks, he almost wishes he’d died then and there in Thomas’s arms.

When he looks up, however, his eyes meet Brenda’s. They stare at each other for what feels like hours, before her eyes fill with tears and she half staggers down the little ramp, as though she can’t believe what she’s seeing.

He’s so damn happy that she and Jorge, who appears behind her, are alive, at least. Some of his family are still alive.

It’s then that Brenda stops, an arm’s reach away, and just watches him. She takes a shuddering breath and then, finally, speaks, though all she can get out is his name.

“Newt?”


	3. come tomorrow i'll be with the ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think in the comments, or just leave a kudos! alternatively, come shout at me on tumblr, @sunshinesrose. a reminder that if you would like to mention or use echo in a fic, please reach out to me first!

Thomas has been put to work with Aris, in the small little garden which Aris has sort of named himself in charge of. It still reminds Thomas of Newt; of how passionate he was about his garden, though Thomas wasn’t there to see much of it before Teresa arrived and everything changed.

He often thinks about how different things would be if he had been in the Glade earlier, if he hadn’t been one of WCKD’s favourites. He would have had two, maybe three years more with Newt. Two years more moments and memories tossed between them. Maybe if they had just had a little more time, Thomas would have told him that he loved him.

Because that’s what it all boiled down to, in the end. Time. And eventually, they had run out. Thomas knew his luck had to have run out eventually, but he never expected it to take the most important person with it.

Evidently, Thomas is only still alive because of dumb luck. He just wishes Newt had been as fortunate. He catches himself sometimes - often - turning to speak to Newt. He usually does it just after Minho’s made some stupid joke or Frypan references a shared memory, and he’ll turn to catch Newt’s eye like he always did, only to realise his best friend isn’t there.

A lot of their connection, Thomas thinks, was unspoken. They spent so much time looking at each other, communicating solely through meaningful glances. Eventually he and Newt hardly needed to speak at all - he could look at the blond and instinctively know what he was thinking. It’s a connection he’s never felt with anyone else.

Aris jogs over as soon as he appears, and Thomas can’t help but pull him into a hug, ruffling Aris’ hair in a way that he knows pisses him off. Aris pushes his hands away, rolling his eyes but Thomas can tell he’s just glad to be laughing.

It’s been around four months since they rescued Aris and Sonya from WCKD, three months in the Safe Haven, and Aris’ black eye has almost completely faded. Thomas sometimes thinks about Janson hitting the younger boy and gets so angry he has to sit down, before he reminds himself that Janson can’t reach them here. Nobody can.

“You’re on the carrots.” Aris says firmly, ushering Thomas over to a small area of the garden where he is apparently required to simply pull the carrots out of the ground and place them into a small woven box. Aris isn’t subtle; Thomas knows that he’s purposely assigned him the easiest job because, like everyone, Aris doesn’t know how best to help Thomas. It’s only Minho and Frypan who really seem to get what the best thing to say is, and Thomas doesn’t blame Aris for it. In a way, he’s grateful that all he has to do is spend the morning pulling carrots.

When he sits down, he turns to his left and feels his heart falter when he sees Sonya. She’s knelt down beside a patch of grass, performing a similar task to him, and Thomas can hardly bear to look at her. She looks so much like Newt then that he can’t believe they didn’t put two and two together earlier.

“Thomas?”

He startles and smiles at her apologetically, mutter his sentiment under his breath and then hoping she’ll leave it at that. But, because she’s Newt’s sister, she seems to somehow know what he’s thinking before he even does.

“Thank you for looking after him. All that time.”

He has to take a deep breath before he replies. “I could have done more. You - I mean, you barely spoke to him. You didn’t get any time at all.” He feels awful, then, that he had selfishly wanted more time with Newt, when Newt’s own sister probably only spoke to him once or twice. They were reunited for a day before she got taken back by WCKD.

She shrugs. “Maybe. But I have memories with him.”

He turns to her immediately, putting his spade down. “What do you mean? Memories - you remembered?”

“Jorge thinks it’s something to do with the distance from WCKD - like, because we’re so far away from them, the Swipe isn’t working anymore. But also-“ She stops then and takes a sharp inhale, as though the memory is painful to resurface. “I think they gave them back to me when I was there. Part of them, anyway. I don’t know why.”

Thomas then contemplates doing something more selfish than all his past actions put together. He wonders how Sonya would react if he asked him to recount some of her memories with Newt, but he knows he can’t. They’re all she has left of him, and Thomas doesn’t get to take those from her, no matter how much he desperately wants to hear them.

Part of him feels like if he just hears more stories about Newt, it’ll somehow keep him alive. He knows it’s stupid, but Gally had obliged and told him a bunch of Newt stories from back in the Glade, and for a moment, Thomas had been able to pretend like Newt was still alive.

“There’s this one memory-“ She starts, and Thomas immediately cuts her off with a shake of his head, looking down at the floor in shame.

“Those memories are yours. You don’t have to share them with me.” He tells her, and it’s her turn to shake her head, but she’s smiling instead.

“I kind of want to. Harriet and Aris didn’t know him, so even though they listen, it doesn’t really mean anything to them. And I guess - well, it sounds stupid, but I don’t really know your other friends that well. Frypan and Minho and Gally. I’ve only really known them these three months and I guess it feels too soon to talk to them.”

“You don’t know me, either.” He points out.

“No,” She agrees, “but he did. Minho said once that there was always something different about you and him. If Newt trusted you, that’s good enough for me. Anyway, so, I have this memory of when we were really young and playing outside, before we got taken by WCKD. We were with some neighbourhood kids, and Newt’s friends were asking him to play, but he kept saying no, that he wanted to go with me.”

He can’t help but grin. “Sounds like Newt.”

“Even though I was awful, he still wanted to be on my team. He called me Lizzy, you know? I think maybe that was my name, before.”

“Do you want me to call you that instead?”

She shakes her head immediately, and he’s surprised at how quick she decides it. “No. Lizzy doesn’t exist anymore. And - even if I am her, I think I’d kind of only want him to call me that.”

“Like how he called me Tommy.”

They exchange a quick smile then and he suddenly feels a million times closer to her than he had ten minutes ago. He can definitely see parts of Newt in her and he makes a vow then to make Sonya one of his friends. He knows it’s what Newt would have wanted.

“You know,” He offers, pulling out a last carrot, “you could always come and sit with us today, at dinner. Frypan’s always going on about how he misses Aris.”

She grins, nodding easily. “Aris always was everyone’s favourite.”

As though he’s heard them, Aris materialises beside them, patting Thomas on the back and praising him for what is, really, a very shoddy effort, but Aris seems intent to keep up the pretence that Thomas is some kind of hero.

“What about my effort?” Sonya protests, and Aris replies that a two year old could have accomplished what she had. Thomas watches the two wrestle playfully and he can’t help but relax a little bit at the sight of it.

If they’re happy, then he’s done what he needed to do. Even if he couldn’t keep Newt safe, at least his little sister is alive and happy.

“Hey, Greenie!” Gally calls suddenly, and Thomas rolls his eyes at the nickname, one that Gally has refused to stop using. “Come over here a minute.”

He waves goodbye to Aris and Sonya, and heads over to where Gally and Harriet are huddled around a small radio.

“What is it?”

Gally indicates to the radio, and Thomas is surprised to see the excited look in his eyes. “Someone’s been tapping into the radio system. We have no idea how it’s even working out here, but it’s a girl, and she says she’s alive, in the Last City.”

Teresa, he thinks, but before he can even voice that, Gally is shaking his head, somehow knowing what Thomas had been about to ask. Thomas wonders when Gally transitioned from an enemy to someone he now considers a friend, and finds he doesn’t mind the development too much.

“It’s not somebody Harriet recognises, but we’ve managed to radio Jorge and let him know to look out for her.”

Thomas nods, but he can’t help but wonder why he was brought over to this small exchange, until he sees in Gally’s eyes that there’s something more he wants to say. Harriet must pick up on it, too, because she quickly excuses herself and heads over towards the small medical tent.

“Uh, Greenie, look - there’s something you ought to know. Bren just radioed in to tell us.”  
“Bren?” Thomas blurts, even though it’s not the most important thing. Gally, incredibly, actually blushes a little at the mention of their friend, and Thomas is reminded back to “I like her.’ It had been a passing comment, and yet he wonders how much truth there was in it.

“Brenda. Anyway, she- _god_ , I’m bad at this. Newt always took care of this kinda stuff.” Gally freezes then, as though realising he’s made a mistake. “I’m sorry - sorry, Thomas, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay. We can’t keep stepping around and pretending he’s not gone.” It hurts even as Thomas says it, and yet he knows it to be true. Newt is dead, and he can’t keep expecting people to walk on eggshells around him.

“Right. Well. Brenda and Jorge; they said his body isn’t there. It’s gone.”

A ringing erupts in Thomas’s right ear. He has no idea what Gally’s even trying to say. Surely, even Gally isn’t cruel enough to insinuate that somewhere out there, Newt is still alive. The only possible conclusion is that some cranks found Newt’s body and are having a feast, and Thomas thinks that’s mean of Gally to bring up, too.

“I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”

Gally sighs, and he suddenly looks much older than eighteen or nineteen (Thomas never did find out how old he is, let alone Gally’s age) and rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought you ought to know.”

Thomas nods, but he has to shut his eyes for a full minute to think through exactly what Gally has told him. Even if what he’s saying is true, Thomas can’t bear the little bit of hope which swarms his chest when he thinks about Newt being alive, and so he dismisses the thought entirely. Instead, anger creeps in, like a familiar friend, a feeling Thomas is used to.

“No, you know what, fuck you, Gally, fuck you for letting me think that he could still be alive when we both know he’s never coming back!” He explodes, turning around and making to walk away, consumed by a sudden heavy anger.

“Thomas, wait-“ He hears Gally shout and then a second later, impossibly, Gally pulls him into a hug. It’s all consuming and Thomas is so overwhelmed that he doesn’t know what else to do but break down crying into Gally’s chest, his sobs coming out in gulps.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry.” Gally’s whispering and Thomas wonders when exactly he let himself trust Gally. He must have, at some point, because he is suddenly completely open to letting Gally see him cry. He’ll never be able to forget what Gally did to Chuck, but at least, now, Thomas can forgive him. Too much has happened for grudges and Thomas can’t hold one against anyone but WCKD.

Even when Gally releases him from the hug, neither of them move, and they simply sit down on one of the benches. A few minutes pass as they simply sit in quiet, and there’s no need to talk. They just sit and breathe and for a moment, it’s peaceful.

“Looks like we’re buddies now, huh?” Gally jokes, after a while, and Thomas laughs, ducking his head down to look at the floor.

“I guess so. You were the last person I’d ever thought I’d cry in front of. I’ve been doing that a lot recently.”

“Me too. It’s normal. We’ve been through some major shit.” Gally replies quietly, and he clears his throat, stammering a little before he speaks again. “I’m glad you forgave me. I kind of didn’t think you would, after - well, with what I’ve done.”

Thomas huffs a quiet laugh, and looks up at Gally. “I’ve done a lot of stuff I regret. A lot of decisions I made that got people hurt or killed. You weren’t yourself. I don’t blame you for that, anymore, and neither would Chuck.”

Gally’s eyes fill with tears and he exhales shakily before clapping Thomas on the back, standing up from the ground. “Come on. Minho’s gonna be wondering where we are.” Thomas doesn’t push, takes it that Gally isn’t ready to talk about Chuck completely, and simply follows Gally along to go and find Minho.

They grab their food last, so they can eat with Frypan, who always waits until the last person is served before he eats the food himself, and then they go and sit on one of the picnic tables which Gally had helped build.

After a few moments, Aris walks over, flanked by Sonya and Harriet. The four remaining Gladers move up wordlessly, making room for the other three, and fall into easy conversation.

When the conversation turns to memories, Aris mentions Newt, and then immediately turns to look at Thomas in horror, his eyes wide and apologetic. Thomas simply smiles back, and nods, giving Aris the go-ahead.

Nobody says anything, but Thomas notes the look that Minho and Frypan exchange. He lets the others continue their conversation, but can’t help his mind slipping back to a memory that he had almost forgotten about, back when they’d been planning Minho’s rescue.

  
_“Hey, Tommy. Why the long face?” Newt says, coming to sit beside Thomas, and offering him a slice of apple with an easy grin, nudging Thomas to move up._

_Thomas takes the slice but ignores Newt’s question, until his friend asks it again, because he always does. “Are you insulting my appearance?”_

_“Well, you’re not much of a looker.” Newt teases, laughing a little before, as always, he returns back to his serious expression. “Come on, Tommy, I know something’s wrong.”_

_“It’s just Minho. I’m worried about him_. I _\- it’s all my fault. All of it. I can’t stop thinking about them.” He admits, though he can’t even look at Newt as he says it, scared that he’ll agree._

_“Hey.” Newt immediately places a hand on his shoulder and his skin burns like fire, tingling under Newt’s touch. He doesn’t know why his best friend makes his heart beat faster or his breath catch, but there’s something about Newt that he can’t shake. Something that he hasn’t felt - or not that he can remember, anyway._

_With Brenda and Teresa it had been different. He’d trusted Teresa instinctively, back in the Glade, and she had meant something to him, it was obvious, but the more he thought about it, the more their relationship had felt only like the steady and comfortable friendship he had with Minho or Fry. One built on trust and respect and love - but he hadn’t been in love with Teresa._

_It had always been different with Newt. There was that same attraction that Thomas had felt towards Brenda, but something else, too. It was love; that was the name he had to give it. He loved Newt, he knew it, and yet every time he tried to say something, his throat dried up and he couldn’t speak._

_“I know. I know. It’s - I know it’s WCKD’s fault, but I can’t help feeling like it’s mine, too.”_

_“It’s not your fault. And I know that me saying that ain’t going to change how you feel about it, but it’s the truth.” Newt’s hand comes to tug his chin, angling his face so Thomas is looking directly at him. “I don’t blame you. Alright? God, Tommy, I - you must know how I feel about you.”_

_Thomas’s eyebrows knit together, and he’s sure he’s making a stupidly confused expression, but he’s not sure what Newt’s trying to say._

_“You should get an award for your obliviousness, you know, mate?” Newt whispers, and Thomas feels a definite jolt of something, low in his stomach, and he’s looking at Newt’s lips, just for a beat._

_And then the illusion breaks as Frypan comes rushing in, saying they need to come look at something because Jorge had heard something over the radio, and the spell is broken._

_Newt offers him a hand up, and Thomas takes it, heart still beating out of his chest, but the moment has passed_.

He only returns to the present conversation when Minho nudges him, and he sees that all the others are departing from lunch. He smiles, then, and realises with sudden clarity that it’s the first time he’s remembered Newt and not cried.

It’s nice, somehow, being able to think about Newt without crying. There’s still that pain, which starts in his heart and spreads throughout every inch of his body, but at least, this time, he isn’t left with wracking sobs that leave him breathless.

“You were thinking about him, weren’t you?” Minho asks, and Thomas looks at him in surprise, wondering how he knows it was Newt specifically. “You had your Newt face on.”

“Shut up, I don’t have a face.”

“Yes, you do. You get this sappy lovesick expression and Thomas, I gotta say, I’m heartbroken, because I totally thought we had something-“ Minho breaks off laughing when Thomas shoves at him, and he sets of running, Thomas quick on his tails.

Thomas chases him breathlessly and laughs fully when Minho stops and he goes colliding into his back. Minho is laughing too, and it’s one of those laughs where each time they look at each other, it just starts them up all over again.

Frypan ambles over and joins them, and his face only makes them laugh more, to the point where all three of them are clutching at their sides, laughing without any sound at all.

It hurts his ribs, but it’s a pain Thomas can handle. For once, it’s a good kind of pain.


	4. i'll be rising with the morning tide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jorge is newt's dad figure because i want him to be and i make the rules here. you can reach me on tumblr, @sunshinesrose!

They stand there, in silence, for what feels like hours, until Brenda falters, her hand loosening on her gun and then she’s rushing towards him and he feels her pull him into a hug. He never really realised just how much Brenda means to him, and in that moment, he suddenly can’t believe that they ever weren’t friends.

“How - how is this possible? I thought you were dead. We - we all thought you were dead.” Brenda regains control of herself remarkably quickly, though Newt would never expect anything else. She’s always been quick to get back to business, even in the most emotional of times, and it’s one of the things Newt actually likes most about her.

“I hate to interrupt, but we have company.” Echo interjects, before Newt can say anything in reply, and gestures to the right where Newt can see a couple of lone cranks moving towards them. It’s not enough to worry him, but enough to indicate there may be more, and he figures they can continue the conversation aboard the Berg.

“Let’s go, come on.” Newt says immediately, pulling Echo’s arm and trying to get closer to the Berg, where Jorge is standing, still looking like he’s seen a ghost - and to him, he probably has.

“Wait, Newt. I need to go back to the house, there’s something I need to do.” Echo protests, pulling her hand free and turning to shoot a bullet into the head of the nearest crank. “Look, go with your friends, and come meet me at my place in twenty, okay?”

He doesn’t think he can bear this again. It’s happened too many times; someone needing to go back for something, and then he never sees them again. It happened with Minho; he’d only just been reunited with his best friend when they had been torn apart again. Newt is almost certain then that he won’t be able to go to the Safe Haven without her.

He turns, pulling her into a fierce hug and then looking at her seriously. “Twenty minutes. No pissing about, alright? You’re there, in twenty minutes, ready to go.”

She nods, and turns to run off, taking her gun with her. Newt’s heart gets stuck in his throat when he wonders briefly if it’s the last time he’ll ever see her.

Brenda tugs him onboard the Berg, and he embraces her in another hug, surprising himself at just how close he wants to be to her, muttering affirmations that he’s okay into her hair. It’s stupid, but he hadn’t ever really consider how close a friend Brenda considers him, nor how much she means to him.

She means a lot, he concludes.

Brenda moves to the front of the ship and takes over the steering, whilst Jorge stands. He still hasn’t said a word and his face is somewhat pinched, as though he’s battling back a great deal of emotion, trying to be strong for them.

“Is it really you, hermano?” Jorge asks shakily, and Newt hears just how strong his emotions are solely through the quiver in Jorge’s voice, conveying just how emotional it is for him. Newt imagines he’d react the same if it was Thomas standing in front of him.

“It’s me. Want me to answer a trivia question to prove it? Like, how many times have you said us from peril? I think we’re going on for four or five, now.” Newt jokes, and before he can even start laughing, Jorge is pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Jorge mumbles softly and Newt wonders just when he became a part of Jorge’s family. It’s obvious from the way Jorge’s eyes are clenched shut that Newt means something to him, as though Jorge can’t bear to open his eyes in case he isn’t there when he does.

“I’ll try not to.” Newt promises, and when Jorge pulls away, Newt can see that his eyes are swimming with tears.

“I need directions here!” Brenda calls from the front of the Berg and Newt mock salutes her, heading over to the front of the ship, flanked by Jorge, who appears hesitant to let Newt out of his sight.

He directs Brenda to the place he’s spent God knows how long recovering, and it’s then that he thinks to ask, since he doesn’t actually know how long it’s been. “How long have I been gone for?”

“Three months.” Brenda answers quietly, and Newt feels his heart jolt at the number. He’d been expecting it to be high, but three months feels so long when they say it out loud. “Who was that girl, anyway?”

“Echo. A friend of Gally’s.” He half wants to clock on the unspoken ‘apparently’ to the end there, but he feels he owes it to Echo to show Brenda and Jorge that he trusts her words, because he does. Even if he doesn’t fully trust her, he believes what she’s told him.

“And she just helped you for free?” Jorge asks, and Newt bites back a laugh at the older man voicing the very same question Newt had only half an hour earlier.

“Apparently To-“ Newt breaks off immediately then. He can’t bear to speak Thomas’s name. He hasn’t allowed himself to even think about Thomas, because if he does, he has no idea how he’ll react and there’s no time for crying until he knows he’s completely safe. “Someone promised a place in the Safe Haven for her and her sister.”

Neither of them mention Newt’s hesitation and he’s glad they don’t, because even though he presumably doesn’t have the Flare anymore, he thinks he’d still react angrily if he was asked about Thomas. As though she’s read his mind, Brenda immediately approaches the topic.

“I still don’t get it. I mean, how are you alive, Newt? I saw your body.”

He shrugs. “Echo says she heard Teresa over the loud speakers. Saying something about his blood being the cure. I guess since his blood was on the dagger, it had cured the Flare and then it was just the stab wound that had injured me.”

Brenda doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t need to be a mind reader to see that she’s keeping something from him. He says as much, and she and Jorge exchange a glance before Jorge speaks.

“Teresa’s dead, hermano.”

Grief hits him so hard he almost thinks he might throw up for a minute. Sure, Teresa had betrayed them but part of Newt can understand why she’d done it. He knows without consideration that if the Flare had killed Thomas, he would have burnt the world to the ground to find a cure.

The knowledge that she’s dead doesn’t feel like fairness. It feels like just another life that the world has ripped from him, and he’s angry for a minute, red hot rage coursing through his veins, and then a second later, he’s so tired. He’s tired of new grief, new people who’s names he can’t bring himself to say.

“The others? Did they - are they alright?”

This is a happier topic, he sees, because both Jorge and Brenda nod, small smiles playing on their faces. Relief shocks him, a feeling he hasn’t felt for a long time, and he can’t fight the smile on his face. “Minho?”

“Still a cocky little shit.”

He laughs, though it comes out as a half sob that they don’t talk about. Minho’s okay. He assumes Thomas is, too; if Thomas hadn’t made it, there’s no way they would have kept it from him, and so he lets himself relax until he feels the Berg began to ease down back to the earth.

They’ve stopped on the ground a couple metres away from the small house he recognises as Echo’s, though he’s only seen it once from the outside. “Newt?”

Newt stops and turns back to look at Jorge, who sits at the driver’s seat, his knuckles whitening from where he is gripping the steering wheel so tight Newt’s worried he might break it. He nods, indicating he’s listening, and waits for Jorge to speak.

“I know she’s your friend. But I don’t want any martyr bullshit, you hear me? If she’s not there, we leave.” Jorge pauses and clenches his jaw before he continues. “I’m serious. Thomas will never forgive me if I found you and lost you again. So you get your ass back here in five, you hear?”

“Alright, _dad_.” Newt teases, but Jorge’s head whips around so abruptly and looks at him with look that’s such a strong mix of grief and affection that Newt has to look away. “Okay. Five minutes.”

With that, he and Brenda step off the Berg and head inside the little house.

As soon as they’re inside, Newt has a feeling he’s going to have to break his promise to Jorge, because there’s blood. Everywhere.

Brenda gags behind him and grabs his shirt, pulling him to leave, but he turns and shrugs her off apologetically.

“Newt-“ She starts, her voice panicked, but he simply shakes his head and cocks his gun.

“I can’t leave her behind. Nobody else, okay? I can’t leave anyone else behind.”

Unbelievably, she just nods. She understands, he thinks, and then the two of them move through the house. It’s small, only three rooms in total, and he whispers Echo’s name a couple times before he sees her, crumpled against the bathroom sink.

“Shit.” He swears, and sinks to his knees, shaking her a little in an attempt to wake her up. “Hey. Echo. Wake up.”

She comes to slowly and groans, pressing her hand against her head. He runs his eyes over her bodies, but can’t see any injuries, which only panics him more. Maybe she’s been shot somewhere he can’t see.

“S’not mine.”

“What?”

“The blood. It’s not mine.”

He doesn’t bother asking who’s. Whoever it was, Echo obviously had a good means to kill them. He doesn’t want to know where the body is or what she’s done; all he cares about is getting the hell out of there.

“Can you walk?”

“Newt.” Brenda’s voice is panicked and a few octaves higher than usual, and he peeks out the bathroom mirror to see that a group of cranks are approaching the house at a much higher speed than he’d like.

He pulls at Echo desperately, and she eventually stands, a little shaky on her feet, but the cranks are nearer a little closer and he’s beginning to worry that they’ll break through the window sooner rather than later, because there’s no glass in the frame, only a few bits of wood nailed across it.

Brenda grabs Echo’s other arm and starts helping her and Newt turns to follow when he feels something grab at his shirt. A crank.

He whirls around, gun pointed, and then, because he has the shittiest luck in the world, it jams. The fucking thing jams.

“No, no! “ He stammers as the crank’s arm gets a better grip on his shirt and threatens to scratch his skin, and he’s going to die like this, he thinks, he’s going to die in this shitty bathroom when he’s only just been given his life back, and then the grip falters as the sound of a gunshot echoes around the room.

“I thought I said no funny business!” Jorge shouts, his face a picture of fury as he grabs at Newt and half drags him out of the house and into the Berg, which has been moved to be parked right outside the house.

The ramp closes quickly, shutting the Berg and keeping them safe and Jorge runs to the driver’s seat, kicking the Berg into gear and sending them up into the air as Newt goes over to Echo to assess her injuries.

Brenda seems to have fed her some water and painkillers, but the amount of blood in her braids is still alarming and he wants to ask if she’s okay when she sees him hovering and roll his eyes.

“I’m fine, stupid. Why the hell didn’t you haul ass out of there when you saw the blood?

“Couldn’t leave you. He made you a promise that you’d get to the Safe Haven and I’m not going to break it.”  
She smiles slightly then, and he realises it’s the first time he’s ever seen her smile properly, though admittedly he’s only been conscious to get to know her for a day. It’s a nice sight all the same.

The Berg descends into a comfortable silence, with Echo leaning back in relief, and Newt sees that she’s clutching something in her hand; whatever she went back for, he assumes.

“What’s that?” Brenda beats him to the question, and they both look to Echo expectantly for the answer.

“It was my sister’s. I couldn’t leave without it.” Neither of them need to ask what happened to her sister, or what the small box contains. He knows that they both know exactly what she’s feeling.

“Is Echo your real name?” Brenda asks instead. “You’re not a WCKD kid, so where’s that name come from?”

“It’s not my real name. My sister always called me Echo, since I’d always copy whatever she said when we were kids.” She replies, turning over the box in her hands as she recalls the memory. “My parents named me Sarah. But I haven’t been Sarah for a long time.”

This seems to remind Brenda of something and she exchanges another of her glances with Jorge, who still hasn’t looked at Newt yet. “Newt - there’s something you should know before we get back. You remember Sonya?”

He feels bad, but he admittedly has to pause for a second before he can place her in his head, and then nods.

“Well, she’s your sister.” Brenda mutters.

Lizzy, his brain supplies, and the thought startles him, a memory he hadn’t known he’d had until it popped into his head. “Oh.” He replies pathetically, and Echo snorts out a laughter at his attempt at a reply.

“Just thought you should know.”

He nods, hoping it conveys how grateful he is to her, for everything. He doesn’t think he could formulate the words, even if he wanted to.

It’s then that Jorge speaks again. “Do not ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t leave her.”

  
Jorge nods, and looks away from the horizon for a second to smile at Newt. “I understand. But we can’t lose you again. Not again.”

Newt knows who ‘we’ is without needing to voice it, but his brain can’t stop thinking about it. About him.

Thomas, Thomas, Thomas.

The Berg contains moving on, but Newt can’t shut his eyes. He needs to be awake, he thinks. If this is all some wonderful dream, he wants to at least remember all of it.

It’s not until Jorge announces that they have five minutes before they get there that the nerves seize up in Newt’s chest. They don’t leave even as the Berg lands, or as Brenda asks him if he’s ready.

His chest still aches when the ramp drops, and sunlight filters into his vision as he holds a hand over his face and tries to block out the harsh light.

The sound of laughter is the first thing he hears, and the sea is the next.

“Hey, they’re back!”

Minho.

And then Newt’s head tilts to the left and he sees brown eyes and brown hair and an downturned lips and he can’t breathe, even as he hears Minho shout something, voice drenched with grief.

Thomas is okay. Thomas is alive.


	5. when you walked into the room just then

He can’t breathe. His breath is laboured, rattling against his ribcage and tightening his lungs until he’s worried he might pass out.

He knows that they’re speaking, but all he can hear is a ringing in his ears, watching as their mouths move but no sounds come out. Minho is clutching Newt, and Thomas can tell from the way he’s moving that Minho is crying.

From his side, Frypan staggers towards Newt and regards him for a second or two before pulling him in for a hug. Fry doesn’t cry, but Thomas sees the way his arms tighten around Newt, like he’s afraid that the blond will just float away if he doesn’t hold him to the ground.

  
Thomas still hasn’t moved. It’s all he can do to stand and look at Newt, because even that much is so unbearably painful that he wants to shut his eyes and block the world away.

It’s WCKD, obviously. It’s WCKD, playing another of their cruel, evil tricks on him. Newt is dead. Thomas watched him die. Thomas felt him die, felt as the last glimpse of life slipped out of Newt’s body and left him lying there, motionless.

It’s not real. It has to be some kind of illusion, an hallucination or something. He’d sort of vaguely known he was losing his mind but could never have imagined that it would get to be this bad, to the point where his mind would show him things he can never have. People he will never get back.

The ringing in his ears subsides to a low hum as Minho and Frypan reluctantly let Newt go, and then it’s just the two of them, looking at each other. The rest of the world seems to fade away in a second, and all Thomas can see is Newt.

“Don’t look so excited to see me, Tommy.”

Thomas’s heart shatters.

He wants to turn and run, but his feet are rooted in place and he can’t move, even as his brain screams at him that _this is a trick, get the others and run, Thomas!_

He steps towards Newt, feeling like he’s treading water. He doesn’t want to touch Newt, because he knows as soon as he does, the illusion will be fade and he’ll be left on his own again, and Newt will still be dead.

“This isn’t-“ He whispers, and runs his tongue over his lips, trying to get the words out. “This can’t be real.”

“It is.” Newt urges, and Thomas feels tears fill his eyes before Newt’s even finished speaking. “This is real.”

The dam breaks, and he doesn’t know who moves first but then he has Newt in his arms, and his heart is thumping so hard in his chest he’s worried for a second that it might kill him. He wouldn’t care if he died, right then. He has Newt back. Newt’s alive.

“I - I thought you were dead, Newt, I thought I was going to have to live the rest of my life without you.” Thomas sobs, but he can’t let go over Newt, not yet. His hands come up past the back of Newt’s neck, feeling all the way up to his hair and then retreating to his cheeks, so Thomas is standing there, looking at Newt, holding him.

  
They stand, looking at each other, Thomas’s body still shaking a little from the overflow of emotions. They breathe in time with each other, their bodies returning to the age old pattern they’ve been memorising since the first time Thomas sat beside Newt at the bonfire, all those years ago in the Glade.

“I need to tell you something.” Thomas blurts out, hurrying to get it out in case something happens, in case someone tries to take Newt from him. “Newt, I need to tell you-“

Newt cuts him off with a little smile. “Later, okay? Later.” Newt’s hands come to play with the necklace that Thomas has around his neck, one he hasn’t taken off in three months, not even to shower.

A hand appears out of nowhere to touch Newt’s shoulder and instinctively, Thomas pulls Newt into his chest, tucking him protectively behind him as he whirls around to see who it is. His cheeks colour with embarrassment when he sees that it’s only Gally, smirking a little with an ‘I told you so’ expression that, worryingly, reminds Thomas of Minho.

“It’s alright, Tommy.” Newt says quietly and he pulls away from their embrace, but Thomas grabs one of his hands in the last second and then stares down at their joined hands in shock, as though he doesn’t know what he’s looking at.

Newt doesn’t say anything, just pulls Gally into a one armed hug. Gally whispers something to him, too quiet for anyone but Newt to hear. Whatever it is, Newt nods and smiles, and something passes between the two of them.

Thomas doesn’t ask, just keeps his hand clenched in Newt’s, unwilling to let go, even for a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees movement from the Berg, and he’s instantly on edge again, panicking as he reaches down for the gun he keeps in his left pocket.

It’s a girl. She’s tall, around their age, and smiling at Thomas like she knows him. “This must be Thomas, then?” She jokes, and Newt rolls his eyes at her.

“You’re the girl from the radio, right?” Minho cuts in, a little suspiciously. Thomas notes that Minho hasn’t taken his eyes away from Newt the entire time, and still, he focuses most of his attention on Newt even as he speaks to the girl.

“This is Echo.” Newt introduces. “She saved my life.”

Thomas watches, confusion clouding his vision when Gally steps forward and pulls her into a hug, muttering that he’s sorry and thank you and something about a sister.

Then, to Thomas’s shock, Minho steps forward and wraps the girl into an embrace. It’s quick, over before it started, but a tear slips from Minho’s eyes as he pulls away.

Thomas almost feels he should hug her, too, if she’s the one who got Newt there in one piece, but he can’t bear to let Newt go, even for a second. He can’t.

Nobody speaks for a minute, and then Thomas turns and looks as he sees Sonya step into view. Newt stares at her for a minute, and she looks at him, and neither of them move for an entire agonising minute, before Newt whispers, “Lizzy?”

Thomas does let go, then, as Sonya runs into Newt’s arms and they hug, and he’s surprised nobody called that they were siblings before, because they really do look strikingly similar to one another.

They hug for a full minute before Thomas’s heartbeat picks up again, a little increased beat telling him he needs to touch Newt, needs to check that he’s real before he starts panicking again. Newt, like he always does, picks up on exactly what Thomas is feeling, and pulls away so that Thomas can move to stand beside him, his arm nudging up against Newt’s, needed that feeling of solidity.

“How are you alive?” Minho’s voice is hoarse and desperate and it’s obvious that he’s been crying a little. Thomas reaches out and claps a hand onto Minho’s shoulder, wanting to extend the comfort to his best friend, the comfort Minho has been providing him for the last three months.

Newt launches into a lengthy explanation which Thomas fully tunes out on. He doesn’t think he even wants to hear what Newt has to say. He thinks that if he had to listen to Newt recall what happened, how they left him there, alone, he would throw up.

The small crowd that had gathered at the sight of the Berg has dissipated, and it’s just them left. Vince and Jorge stand a few feet away, talking quietly amongst themselves and looking back at Newt every so often.

Thomas sees Gally approach Brenda and say something, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, and then Brenda roll her eyes and brings him in for a hug, and in any other situation, Thomas would totally be poking fun at the expression on Gally’s face.

Fry and Minho are listening to Newt’s story, and he can see the tension visibly seep out of them, tension that he hadn’t realised that they were holding until he sees Fry’s shoulder’s relax and Minho’s jaw unclench. The girl, Echo, just stands and watches as Newt talks, not saying much.

He startles when he sees Sonya beside him, from where he’s standing barely an inch away from Newt. Their arms are no longer pressed together, and instead Thomas has settled for linking their pinkies together.

It’s a small touch, and yet he thinks that if Newt pulled his pinkie away, he would double over in pain.

“I can’t believe he’s really here.” Sonya says quietly. He nods, and looks over at Newt. Impossibly, Newt’s already looking at him. Thomas’s heart skips a beat.

“I keep feeling like I’m going to wake up and this will have been a dream.” He admits. He still darts his eyes back to Newt every couple of seconds, terrified that he’s going to dematerialise right in front of him.

As ever, Vince steps in to keep things moving. “Well, I think Newt needs a proper welcome. Fry, you think you can whip up a special dinner for tonight? We’ll have another bonfire - and that name needs scratching out.”

“What name?” Newt asks. Thomas’s heart lurches uncomfortably, and Minho gestures over to the rock, and suggests that he takes Newt over there, to explain. Newt nods, and Thomas feels him unhook their fingers and suddenly Thomas is back on that rooftop and Newt is lurching at him with a knife and he’s going to lose the love of his life-

And Newt’s hands are on his shoulders.

“I’m coming back, Thomas.” Newt’s voice is soft, and the others have turned away to give them a little privacy, but Thomas can’t breathe.

“No.” Thomas responds instantly, and then shakes his head, rearranging his thoughts. “I mean, not Thomas. I’m - it’s Tommy, with you.” It sounds so stupid and yet Thomas doesn’t ever want to hear Newt call him anything except Thomas. He wants to be Tommy for the rest of his life.

Newt’s eyes soften in surprise and he looks down for a beat, before their eyes meet again and he smiles. “Alright, Tommy. I’ll be back in a few, okay?”

Shakily, he nods, and lets Minho wrap an arm around Newt’s shoulders. Minho is already chattering excitedly, voice working a mile a minute as he explains the ins and outs of the Safe Haven, and Thomas is reminded once again that Minho has known Newt a lot longer than he has. That for him, he was losing his best friend who he spent three years in the Glade with.

Thomas still can’t move and just stays there, watching, until Brenda walks over. She’s flanked by Echo, the newest addition to their Safe Haven, and comes to stand beside him, patting his shoulder.

“You need to tell him.” Brenda’s voice is soft but her eyes fierce. “Don’t waste anymore time, Thomas. Tell him how you feel.”

Thomas looks at her in alarm and gestures to Echo beside them. He’s suddenly filled with the awful, horrific thought that Echo and Newt might have something from those three months they’d spent together, and the thought makes him feel sick to his stomach. Maybe he’s too late.

“Oh, please. I already know Newt’s in love with you.” Echo says, in a very matter of fact way. “Spent most of his time muttering your name in his sleep. He told me about you on the Berg over; said you’re an impulsive, oblivious person who doesn’t know what’s good for him?”

A laughs startles out of him. “Yeah, that tends to be my forte.”

“Well, then. You should’ve seen the way he said it, though, all sappy eyes and wistful voice. Kinda like how Gally talks about your friend here.”

Brenda elbows Echo in the side, and Thomas knows instantly that they are going to be a force to be reckoned with.

He looks back over to the rock, and sees Minho and Newt embraced in a hug, both of them holding on tighter than they’ll admit later on. He gathers that they perhaps need a minute alone, and he turns, walking back a few paces until he finds a seat on the floor beside Harriet and Sonya.

He’s terrified to let Newt out of his sight, but at least he can let him have some privacy with Minho. He sits, picking at the grass and listening to the quiet hum of Harriet and Sonya’s conversation.

“How long do you reckon it’ll take for Gally and Brenda to get their shit together?” Harriet wonders aloud. Thomas is still only getting used to the idea of them together, but any anger he had towards Gally fizzled out a long time ago. Now, he truly considers Gally his friend. He only wants what’s best for him, and if it’s Brenda, then Thomas wants them together.

“Honestly, Bren gets all the action. And you two are all coupled up,” He gestures to Harriet and Sonya’s joined hands, and they turn to look at each other, Harriet pressing a gentle kiss to Sonya’s lips, “How come nobody’s chasing after me?”

He’s joking, of course, because God knows he only wants Newt, but Harriet regards him as though he’s just proven himself to be tragically insane.

  
“And I thought they were kidding about the oblivious thing.” She pushes at his shoulder and then speaks a little softer as Minho and Newt start to walk towards them. “Half the Safe Haven is in love with you, Thomas. Nobody’s stupid enough to make a move because anyone can see you’re in love with Newt.”

“But Newt hasn’t been here, the last three months.”

“No,” She agrees, “but neither were you, really. This was never going to be home for you without him.”

“What are you lot gossiping about?” Newt asks expectantly, suddenly standing over them, and Thomas immediately scrambles up, doing a once over of Newt’s body as though he could have somehow been injured in the second that Thomas looked away.

“Gally and Brenda.” Sonya interjects easily, and ruffles her brother’s hair. “You’re old news already, dude.”

“And here I was thinking you’d be happy to have your brother back. May as well hop back on that Berg and fly away.”

Thomas says “You’re never leaving again.” before he can think about it and then looks away, flooded with embarrassment when everyone turns to look at him with that knowing look.

“Come and help set up the bonfire!” Aris calls, waving the group over, before he promptly drops all of the wood he’d been holding onto the floor and swears loudly.

“Wait, Newt, I need to - we have to talk.” Thomas tries desperately, and is grateful for the fact that the rest of his friends turn and start walking towards the main circle by the rock, starting to help Aris sort things out.

As much as he loves them, Thomas just wants to be with Newt for a second. Minho falters momentarily, looking back at Newt, but seems to decide something in his head, and relaxes, jogging to fall into pace beside Echo, like he’d decided that Newt was safe as long as he was with Thomas.

“Later, Tommy.”

“No, Newt - I don’t - I can’t wait anymore, I’m tired of waiting.”

“Tommy.” Newt takes his breath away with just a look. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here this evening, okay? I just - I want whatever you’re going to say to be private. Just us.”  
Thomas thinks he understands, but at the same time, the more he looks at Newt the more desperate he is to press their lips together and feel Newt’s skin everywhere.

Newt blushes, like the intensity of Thomas’s look is warming him from head to toe, and he pats Thomas chest twice, where his fingers come to brush against the necklace. “You’re wearing it. Have you - did you read it?”

“Every night.” Thomas confirms. He could recite it by heart, now, if he needed to. He knows every word, every line. He knows the curve of Newt’s handwriting like he knows how to breathe, and he knows then, looking at Newt, that he will know Newt’s smile until the day he dies.

Newt just smiles at him, and it shocks the breath out of Thomas. It’s quiet, then, and the only sound he can hear is the sea washing up onto the shore and the low hum of activity around them. There’s a slight breeze which is running through Newt’s hair and Thomas loves him so much it hurts.

“I better go, Minho wants to fix me a bed in your little hut. The mighty Gladers, back together again, huh?”

He nearly blurts it out then, the words almost spilling out at the teasing smile on Newt’s face. “Bet you cried every night, missing me.” He quotes Minho, wanting incite a laugh from Newt and lighten the mood a little before he starts confessing everything to Newt before he’s even had a chance to settle in.

“Yeah, I did.” Newt agrees easily, and pats Thomas twice on the shoulder, turning to amble towards the huts, but Thomas darts forward and pulls him into another hug before he can move too far away.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” He whispers quietly, so quiet he almost doesn’t think Newt can have heard. “No wandering off, nothing risky, yeah?”

Newt just nods into his shoulder and Thomas buries his face into Newt’s hair, standing for a minute before he finally lets go.

He watches as Newt walks away, and feels, finally, like his heart is light. He hadn’t realised how much weight he’d been carrying around for the last three months until he’d seen Newt again, and now he’s almost delirious from the relief he feels.

He turns and heads to the kitchens, ready to bully Frypan into letting him ‘help’. Thomas’s idea of helping in the kitchens usually involves Frypan giving him some ridiculously easy task to get him out of the way, but Thomas doesn’t mind so much. Frypan is steady and calm and stable and Thomas has always appreciated his stability.

  
Brenda’s already there when he arrives, and she and Fry are talking in low tones about something. They stop when he enters, and Thomas rolls his eyes, suddenly able to joke now that he knows Newt is okay. Before, every laugh, every smile or joke had felt like a betrayal to Newt. Now, it just feels natural.

“I know you’re talking about me. Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, Bren.”

“Get over yourself, Thomas, not everything is about our saviour.” She jokes, but gestures for him to take a seat. “But, really, how are you? Are you okay?”

He realises with a jolt that he is. For the first time he can remember, he’s okay. There’s no looming threat, and Newt is alive. He’ll carry the guilt of all the deaths he’s caused for the rest of his life, but at least the heaviness of Newt not being there has dissipated. “Actually, I am.” He breathes out, and feels a wave of emotion run over him.

“So when are you going to tell him?” Fry presses excitedly, and you would think Frypan was the one interested in Newt from the joy on his face.

“This evening, I guess. I don’t know. I don’t want to overwhelm him with too much on his first day.” He knows it’s stupid, but he can’t help the question slipping out. “But Newt and that girl - they weren’t…?"

Brenda scoffs loudly and starts to say something, before cutting herself off. “It’s his thing to tell you. But seriously, Thomas, Newt really only has eyes for you. I knew from the minute you idiots stumbled into that crank pit that he cared for you.”

The memory feels like a hundred years ago, a completely different lifetime, one when Teresa had still been with them and alive. Newt was a different person back then; so was Thomas. He feels both exactly the same and entirely different to that scared kid who led his friends into uncertainty.

He looks over at Fry who’s steadily peeling some potatoes and he wonders out loud what Frypan is making.

“Newt’s favourite. Mashed potatoes. Shuck knows why - Newt’s always had a weird taste in food. Must have got it from the same place he got his accent.” Frypan replies, adding a generous amount of butter to the mixture despite the fact that they currently only have two goats which they managed to find on the island.

Privately, Thomas hates the taste of the goat’s cheese and milk and butter, and he doesn’t quite think that their makeshift farmers have the technique down yet, but he’s not going to comment given that he hasn’t exactly contributed much to the Safe Haven so far.

Vince had told him to take as much time as he needed before getting stuck in on work. “You got us here, Thomas. You deserve to rest.” He’d said, and yet Thomas still hasn’t really been able to move three months onwards.

He feels full of energy now, though, at the prospect of Newt being back.

Guilt slips into his awareness as he realises that what Harriet had said was true. As much as he loves Minho and Frypan, trusts them with his life and knows that they will always be there, there was always going to be a hole that they couldn’t feel. He loves Brenda, and Jorge, and part of him cares for Gally and is beginning to love him as a friend, too.

But none of them could ever have filled the hole that Newt left. Each death had broken a piece of Thomas’s heart, with each goodbye he had to say, but Newt’s had shattered it completely, leaving him completely broken. There was no fixing that, and Thomas had never thought it possible to be fixed, but now, Newt is here.

He still feels like he’s going to wake up any minute now and this will have been both a dream and a terrible nightmare. He pinches himself underneath the table, and a short gasp escapes him at the sensation. It’s real.

“Thomas-“ Brenda’s hand waves in front of his face and he turns to look back at her. “Come on, Fry wants us to go get the serving station ready.”

He hadn’t realised how quickly time had passed, and suddenly the sun is setting rapidly, casting Brenda into a orange-red glow that illuminates her face. He follows her outside into the open area that’s been designated for eating, scattered with a bunch of newly built tables, courtesy of Gally and his little team of builders.

“Speaking of telling people, what’s going on with you and Gally?” He queries, and smirks when she hits his arm playfully with one of the wooden spoons she’s carrying.

“I like him. He’s - different. A challenge. I don’t know, I like that he says what he thinks and doesn’t hold back. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you, before.” She says it so nonchalantly that for a minute Thomas panics, because he’s bad enough with feelings as it is and if he has to try and reject Brenda, he might combust.

“Your face! Try not to look so panicked.” Brenda scoffs, filling up the cutlery bowl with wooden spoons. “That was a long time ago, Thomas. I still love you, but you’re my best friend, nothing more.”

“I love you too. Just not - not like that. You get that?”

She nods and she’s smiling now, a little softer than before. “I know, Thomas. I feel the same. I think I loved you at first because I’d never met anyone my own age before.” He pouts, a mock-offended look on his face, and she rolls her eyes. “Okay, and you’re not the ugliest person I’ve ever seen.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But I could tell that both of us were too - I don’t know, it was never going to be the right time. And then I saw you and Newt together, and I knew that there wasn’t going to be anyone for you but him.”

He nods, looking down at his hands and then back over at her. He opens his mouth to say something, another joke about Gally, when Aris comes running over.

Thomas feels like he might be sick. Aris looks panicked, and Thomas gets that horrible, suffocating feeling whenever someone runs over to him now, and he’s beside Aris in a second, asking him what’s happened.

“It’s Gally, he’s mad at me ‘cause I knocked one of the benches over and it broke and I swear, Thomas, that guy is seriously scary”- and it’s so stupid that Thomas just laughs and pulls Aris into a hug. He’s so much like Chuck that it hurts.

“Don’t run at me like that, I thought something had happened.” Thomas tells him and Aris starts apologising so quickly that Thomas can’t even get another word out edgeways.

“Hey! I thought I told y’all to set those stations!” Frypan shouts from the doorway of the kitchen, and Aris hurriedly grabs some of the wooden bowls from Thomas’s hands and starts banging them down into their places so quickly that a couple roll onto the floor.

Thomas catches Brenda’s eye and they both start laughing, and then Aris starts protesting that he’s not trying to be funny, and then he’s laughing too, and Thomas doesn’t think he’s ever felt this happy before.

It’s a feeling that he wants to keep forever.

The sun continues setting until the island is coloured in a deep colourful hue, just light enough that they can still see each other, but dark enough that the bonfire is lit.

Thomas turns to see Newt and Minho walking back over from the stone. Newt’s name has been crossed off, and Thomas isn’t surprised he did it in private; Newt’s always hated been the centre of attention, as long as Thomas has known him.

He walks over to Newt immediately and sits down beside him on one of the front benches as Vince stands up and starts speaking, but Thomas can’t even hear him, because Newt looks so beautiful bathed in the warm glow from the fire that Thomas can hardly think.

He tries to formulate some kind of words, but nothing comes out, and then Vince is introducing Newt and shouting something and everyone shouts back happily, raising their glasses, but he still only has eyes for Newt.

Newt’s eyes find his, and there’s something different in them, something deeper and more fierce than earlier, and Thomas figures that now is the ‘later’ Newt had meant earlier.

“Can we- can we talk?” Thomas asks softly, and the two of them make their way away from the bonfire. He sneaks a look back and sees Minho making kissing faces at them and Frypan giving an over-exaggerated thumbs up.

He rolls his eyes and then makes a similar face back at Minho when Echo walks over to speak to him and Minho suddenly scratches the back of his neck and looks a little sheepish, an expression he’s never seen on his friend’s face before.

The two stop at the beach, once they’re far enough away from the bonfire that they can only just hear the faint sounds of activity, and they’re alone.

“So, Tommy, what’s this grand confession you’ve got for me?” Newt jokes, standing there in front of him.

“It’s about - um, this.” Thomas indicates to the necklace wordlessly. “Did you mean it? All of it?”

Newt’s serious now, and he nods, the slightest movement of his head. “I did. I’d follow you anywhere.”

Thomas feels a little jolt in his heart, and he knows in a second that he’s in love with Newt. He wants to kiss Newt, wants to pull him close and disappear in him and yet he doesn’t think that now is the right time.

  
He’s only just found out that Newt’s alive. He doesn’t even know if Newt feels the same, if Newt even forgives him for what happened and it feels unfair to dump all of that onto Newt in the first day they’ve spent together in a long time.

Instead, he settles with, “Okay,” and sinks down to sit on the sand, his knees pulled up to his chest as he rests his head on his knee.

Newt comes to sit beside him, cross-legged, and Thomas is looking over at him, a little awestruck. He won’t ever tire of looking at Newt. He wonders if it’s possible to miss someone when they’re there, because he feels the ache of it deep in his bones, like he and Newt will never have enough time together.

“You’ve got that look.” Newt breaks the silence easily, and Thomas wonders why he ever thought things would be tense between them. When it comes to Newt, he doesn’t think things will ever feel weird. It’s always been natural, easy, comforting.

“What look?”

“The one where you kind of look like you want to run. I’ve seen it too many bloody times myself.” Newt’s voice is quiet, wistful, almost, and he looks out onto the horizon. “Just promise me something.”

“Anything.” The word leaves Thomas’s mouth before he can even think about it, but he knows it’s true. He would do anything Newt asked him, without a moment’s thought.

“If you feel like you’re gonna run off again and do a Thomas plan, just - let me know first, alright? Don’t leave me behind.”

The unspoken ‘again’ echoes loudly around them and Thomas has to hold back tears at the guilt he feels. “I’m sorry. I - I thought you were dead, you know, so I left-“

“Thomas. Stop it. That’s not what I meant.”

His name sounds foreign to his own ears and he tilts his head a little, an unspoken question of ‘What did you mean?’

“I just meant that if you’re going to run off, let me know. I said anywhere and I meant it.”

Thomas thinks he might cry, then, at Newt’s stupid, unwavering loyalty. Thomas almost wants to shout at him “Don’t you remember what I’ve done? How many people have died because of me?” but selfishly, he doesn’t want to ruin this moment.

Thomas agrees quietly, and Newt’s mutter of “Good that” reminds Thomas of the Glade. He’s hesitant to bring it up, doesn’t want to evoke any memories in Newt that he isn’t ready to deal with, but he’s also still him, and so he just plows ahead and asks it anyway.

“Do you miss it? The Glade?”

Newt considers this, and then, to Thomas’s surprise, shakes his head. “No. The others do, I think. Gally especially. But - the Glade wasn’t really our home. We weren’t free.”

“You were safe, though.” Thomas points out, and Newt nods, but then shakes his head again, and it looks as though he’s remembering something.

“Not really. I told you how I got my limp, didn’t I?”

Thomas’s breath catches. He remembers the conversation vividly - it had been just after Newt’s outburst, just after he had shouted at Thomas and pushed him up against the wall. Oddly, despite the anger, it’s one of the memories Thomas has revisited the most. Maybe because it’s one of the only times he can remember Newt touching him.

Even though they were extremely close, they didn’t often touch. Thomas can count on one hands the number of times he’s hugged Newt, and it’s a small, sad number. When Newt had died, Thomas had treasured every memory of his touch, even the bad ones.

“At least in the Scorch, there wasn’t any time to be sad. The worst thing about the Glade was feeling caged, stuck in. Out there, we were free. And that was down to you.”

“I’m also the reason you died. And the reason Teresa’s dead, and Winston, and-“

Newt cuts him off with a hand to his cheek, shuffling so close that their shoulders are touching. Newt turns so that he’s facing Thomas completely, and Thomas’s heart burns with want when Newt takes Thomas’s hands into his.

“None of that was your fault, Tommy. And I don’t want to hear you talking about my death again, alright, ‘cause I didn’t die, I’m right here.” Newt’s thumb rubs over his knuckle and Thomas can’t breathe. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Okay,” Thomas breathes, and ducks his head down because looking directly into Newt’s eyes is too much all of a sudden. “Okay.” He repeats, and something like relief coils uncoils and spreads throughout his body.

He wants Newt so badly it hurts. But it’s too early, it’s too much for Newt all in one go and he doesn’t want to overwhelm him. He’s only just got him back, and the last thing he wants is for things to be weird between them.

“Come on. You’re supposed to be the guest of honour!” Thomas jokes, a reference to one of their first ever conversations. It’s a distant memory, now, tinged with grief and death, but still one that only he and Newt share.

“I think you’ll find that’s you.” Newt accepts his hand up, and for a minute they stand there and neither one of them pulls their hands apart.

Thomas is about to say something, maybe some stupid joke or maybe he’ll actually say something about how he’s feeling, but then Gally’s yelling them over, something about a new version of the vile concoction he insists on making every bonfire.

“He been alright?” Newt asks then, and Thomas remembers Newt’s words back in the Last City, about how Gally had once been a true friend of his, and it makes Thomas feel even better about his and Gally’s reluctant but now firm friendship.

“He’s better. Still kind of a dick sometimes, but - he’s good. I - we’re friends, actually.” Thomas doesn’t know why he feels a little embarrassed to admit that he quite likes Gally now, and he realises it’s because he doesn’t want Newt to interpret it the wrong way. “Just friends, though!” He hurries to clarify.

Newt kind of scrunches his eyebrows up and looks a little bewildered, and then he’s asking, “Was that you trying to tell me something?”

“No.” Thomas says quickly, and then reconsiders, “Kind of? I guess, uh, just that - well, that I sort of like boys too, as well as, you know, girls. Not Gally, though! Just boys in general.”

“Oh.” For a terrifying minute, Thomas thinks that Newt might not be okay with that, even though he knows Newt would never judge him, and then Newt says, “Me too. But only boys. Not Gally, though.” He teases.

“Poor Gally.” Thomas jokes, and then Gally shouts them over again and they both fall about laughing and it feels so right.

  
They head back over to the bonfire and his heart feels so, so full as he sits and watches Newt and Minho play fight over something, and he can’t ignore the way his heart swells when Newt turns to look over at him.

Later, when he wakes up in the night, terror plaguing his heart, and screaming Newt’s name, Newt is right there beside, running a comforting hand down his back and whispering something to him that he forgets in the morning, but Newt is there, and that’s all Thomas needs.


	6. it's like the sun came out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come shout at me on tumblr, @sunshinesrose. a reminder that if you would like to mention or use echo in a fic, please reach out to me first!

He’s still not quite used to waking up. It’s a new experience, actually waking up each day, when he spent almost three months in a coma, fully asleep whilst his body tried to fix itself from what happened.

It’s strange, but he’s almost comforted by the fact that he died. Minho keeps insisting that he almost died, but to Newt, he felt himself die. He doesn’t remember much after Minho and Gally ran ahead to get the cure, only snippets of the little grasps at sanity in between lunging at Thomas with a knife. He tries not to dwell on it much, but often, when he’s falling asleep, he can’t get it out of his mind.

The others are asleep, now, as he rolls over and tries to let sleep wash over him. He finds that he often struggles to get to sleep, now. As soon as he’d arrived at the Safe Haven, Minho had insisted on him sleeping in the same small hut that’s shared by the final living Gladers and he is eternally grateful for it.

As much as he loves Brenda and Jorge, as much as he cares for Echo and Aris and Harriet and his sister, Sonya, Newt can only really sleep when he listens out of the familiar sounds of his friends, sounds that he’s spent years coming accustomed to. Like how Fry will mumble in his sleep and how Minho snores a little, but not enough for it to be annoying. How Gally is a light sleeper and wakes at the slightest movement.

But mostly, he can’t sleep unless he can hear Thomas’s little huffs as he falls asleep. He needs to hear the sound of Thomas breathing evenly before he can fall asleep, and sometimes, though he knows it’s creepy, in the middle of the night he’ll tiptoe over to Thomas’s hammock and check that his friend is still breathing steadily.

Perhaps that’s an invasion of privacy, and it’s not something Newt would have done before the Last City, but after his near death, it seems like all of his friends are hesitant to be apart from each other for too long.

Newt pretends he doesn’t notice the way that there’s always at least one of them by his side at any given time, or the way Minho will always hug him before he goes. He and Minho were never particularly inclined to talk about their feelings before, but now, Minho will mutter a fierce ‘Love you’ before any period of separation, as if Newt could ever forget what Minho has done for him.

Thomas still hasn’t said it, though. And that’s okay. Newt’s not expecting any great declaration of love from Thomas, but part of him had really thought that it would come two nights ago, when they were huddled next to each other on the beach and Thomas had been muttering a load of characteristically confusing things.

It seems that, even here, in the Safe Haven, the time never feels right. Newt feels so much older now, and he’s much older than the other WCKD kids, that’s for sure. He watches them, and is surprised by how much they remind him of the Gladers.

He refuses to be jealous of kids, but he can’t deny that something tugs in his chest when he sees a group of twenty or so of them sitting around, and then they’ll turn, and look at the small group of the five remaining Gladers who are alive.

He hears them whispering, sometimes, when they don’t notice that he’s there. It seems that as much as he’s tried to avoid attention, stories of him had spread throughout his absence, and he’ll catch wind of whispers of ‘That’s Newt, Thomas’s best friend, you know, the one he has nightmares about?’ and sometimes even ‘He’s Sonya’s brother, don’t you remember him? He’s the one who got us out from WCKD.’

He doesn’t mind so much if they stare, but when they come and ask him questions about before, about the Glade, he struggles to keep a handle on his emotions. His anger is far and few between now, fading after the Flare was destroyed, and it’s mostly just uncertainty, worry that he’ll say the wrong thing.

He pushes himself out of bed when the first flashes of sunrise start to filter into the room. It’ll be a while before the others awake, even Gally, and Newt quietly pulls his shoes, and heads out of the room. He briefly considers waking Thomas, but decides he wants to let him sleep.

At the beach, he finds a seat in the sand and just sits there, breathing in the salty air, letting it run over his cheeks and through his hair. The waves whisper something unheard and he tries not to let his mind wander to his friends, but it does, and he gets flashes of memories from Ben, from Alby.

One memory pops in, one of Nick, and it’s so startling that Newt almost wants to force it away. He’s not thought about Nick for a long time. Maybe it’s his brain’s way of protecting him, but he feels a bit guilty then, at how long it really has been.

  
It’s only him and Alby who were particularly close to Nick. Maybe the others were, in their own way, but for a long time, Nick only spent time with him and Alby. He lets his mind wander back to one night when he and Nick and Alby had sat around the bonfire, once the others had gone to sleep, and they’d just talked about little things. It is still one of Newt’s fondest memories of the Glade.

He only realises his mistake of not waking Thomas when he hears the screams. It seems that Sonya had somewhat downplayed Thomas’s nightmares, because he can hear Thomas screaming from all the way by the sea.

And Thomas is screaming his name. Sonya had said that they never knew what the nightmares were about, and maybe she’d been trying to protect him, but it’s obvious that Thomas is having a nightmare about him.

He’s only just managed to find his feet when Thomas comes running out of the hut, his eyes wild as his head darts around. When he catches sight of Newt, he starts sprinting down towards him and Newt has barely moved forward before Thomas is colliding into him, his arms tight around his back.

He’s crying, and over his shoulder Newt can see Minho, Frypan and Gally standing outside of the hut, watching them.

“Don’t ever do that again!” Thomas is half-sobbing, half-shouting and Gally quickly hurries the others back inside, obviously seeing that Newt would prefer not to have an audience for what seems like it might be an argument.

“Thomas, calm down.” Newt whispers, and Thomas is stepping back and shoving at him a little and Newt has to put his arms up and grab Thomas’s hands, bringing them up to his lips. “Calm down.” He repeats and kisses Thomas’s hands.

“Tommy.’ Thomas says firmly, almost angry, and Newt nods, a whisper of an apology leaving his lips as he realises just how upset Thomas is.

“Tommy. Don’t do what again?” He asks quietly, and Thomas looks a little embarrassed then and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Leave. Don’t just leave the room without saying anything. I don’t - I thought you were gone again.”

The pain in Thomas’s eyes is evident and Newt feels suddenly closer to him than he ever has before. He knows already that Thomas is the one person he can tell anything, the one person who’s always been there for him, throughout it all, and yet somehow, Thomas’s eyes convey more than he says.

“I’m sorry.” Newt apologises quietly and Thomas’s jaw clenches and he opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but Newt shakes his head firmly and brings the male in for a hug before Thomas can start on some kind of guilt spiral, something which Newt is now well accustomed to dealing with when it comes to Thomas. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Thomas mumbles something into the skin of Newt’s neck, and Newt shivers at the feeling of Thomas’s breath ghosting across his body. He wants to tell Thomas how he feels, in that moment, but he’s so terrified of everything that the admission will come with that he just pulls back from the hug and rests his hands on Thomas’s shoulders.

“Alright?” He asks in confirmation, and grins when Thomas nods. “Good that. Come on - let’s go find the others. Aris kept buggin’ me yesterday about showing you something. He’s half in love with you.”

The two of them head over to the small farm which has been built within the Safe Haven. Ever since his arrival, Newt’s been eager to get back to work. As much as he claims not to miss the Glade, he won’t deny that he misses the routine and stability it offered. Here, at least, he knows he’s safe.

Predictably, Aris jogs over the minute he sees them, and Newt has to bite back a laugh at Aris’ eager expression. Of course, he’d been joking about him being in love with Thomas, because he can see from the way Aris starts speaking at a mile a minute that he just wants to impress Thomas. It reminds Newt of Chuck. He tries not to think about it too much.

He turns around at the sound of his name, and sees Sonya walking towards him. She’s holding hands with Harriet, and Newt can’t help but smile at their closeness. Harriet breaks their hands apart and kisses Sonya’s cheek, before nodding to Newt in lieu of a greeting and heads over to speak with Aris and Thomas.

Thomas, who’s eyes still dart over to him every couple of minutes. Newt’s always looking at him first, whenever it happens. He can usually sense what Thomas is feeling, and if Thomas looks over at him, Newt usually gets there first.

“Hi.” Sonya says, a little shyly, and it strikes Newt how weird the situation actually is. He’s meeting his sister for the first time, but he knew her before, already, though he only remembers actually speaking with her one on one a handful of times. “You okay?”

He nods silently, and then grins at her. “It’s weird, this whole being alive thing.” He admits, and she huffs out a laugh that sounds almost identical to Newt’s.

“I bet. And how’s - how are you and Thomas?”

He quirks an eyebrow at this as his heartbeat picks up. “What’d you mean? Me and Tommy are - well, you know, he’s my best mate.”

“Oh, come on, Newt.” She admonishes and pulls him a couple paces away. Newt sees Thomas look at him in alarm, and he offers back a gentle smile, telling his friend to calm down.

“I know you’re in love with him.” Sonya says firmly and Newt gapes at her a little in shock. Sister or not, it’s still weird to hear her say something he’d thought he had kept relatively secret. “And everyone knows Thomas is in love with you. Why do you think nobody here even bothers flirting with him?”

The thought of somebody flirting with Tommy sends jealousy coursing through Newt’s veins, red-hot and violent and he has to take a breath before he replies. “I don’t want to overwhelm him. He only just found out I’m alive again.”

She smiles in reply. “I get it. But you should know that I don’t think Thomas has thought about anything but you for a long time.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s hard to explain. But - I guess before you got back, it was like part of him was lost. He’s a great guy, you know, always up to help and he’s good with talking to the younger kids, but there was always something missing. At the bonfire, when you got back, that’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

The words hit Newt like a tonne of bricks. He can’t quite believe what he’s hearing; almost doesn’t want to let himself believe it and get his hopes up. He goes to say something else when Echo arrives beside them and takes a seat, slinging an arm around Newt’s shoulders.

“Hey, Echo.” Sonya greets and she looks pretty happy to see her. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. Those hammocks are so comfortable.” Echo responds, and stretches her arms behind her head, basking in the sunlight. Newt’s never seen her so relaxed, and it suits her. He definitely prefers it to her laying on the bathroom floor, covered in blood.

“Hey, Newt - your friend, Minho, was telling me about how Gally wanted you to go take a look at something over at that new hut they’re building.” Echo tells him suddenly, and Newt’s surprised to hear that she’s spoken to Minho, who’s never been particularly good with new people. It took him the best part of two years to trust Aris, Sonya and Harriet and he’s surprised to hear that Echo’s got him talking so soon.

“Right. Now?”

“I guess so. You’re kind of a celebrity here, though, so don’t let your adoring fans wait too long.”

Newt flips her off cheerfully and stands to leave. “Alright, no need to take the piss. See you later, Lizzy?” He falters as soon as he’s said the name. He hasn’t thought to ask her if she minds the nickname, but suddenly it’s out in the open and he can only wait for her reaction.

Her expression is a little confusing, and he can see that the name is both a source of pain and happiness for her. He can see why - she has most of her memories of them as kids, and yet Newt has none. He only knows her as Sonya, and the only memory he has of their past together is her name. However, she seems to settle in a grin and nods. “See you.”

He turns to leave and even makes it a couple steps away before he remembers Thomas’s earlier reaction, and reconsiders. “Tommy? I’m just heading over to see Gally, okay?”

Thomas looks like he’s about to protest, but then Aris says something about a water system and Thomas relaxes a little, and inclines his head in confirmation. “Say hi for me.”

That surprises Newt, but he promises too anyway, and heads off in the direction Echo had indicated. He hadn’t thought about Thomas and Gally becoming friends in his absence, but he remembers how they had been behaving the past few days; how Gally will often come and clap a hand on Thomas’s shoulder, or how Thomas will grin when Gally makes a joke, even if nobody else finds it funny.

It’s a nice feeling, the two of them getting along so well. Maybe they had been starting to get along in the Last City, but they’ve now had three months to get closer, and it seems to have paid off.

“Hey,” He greets easily when he arrives to where Gally is standing in front of a hut, shielding his eye from the sun and shouting directions to one of the younger kids. “What’s going on here?”

“Well, me and Bren have been thinking about how none of these kids have had any semblance of normalcy and so we were thinking of getting some kind of school together.” Bren. That’s another development Newt had not predicted, and yet it’s sort of fitting, Gally and Brenda.

“Yeah? Fancy yourself a teacher, huh?”

Gally shoves him teasingly, and mutters that he’s an idiot. “Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t really know anything to teach, though. All I know is practical skills from the Glade. I know like, basic math and stuff, but these kids have probably had that ground into them at WCKD.”

“Well, you can teach them other stuff, like how to build and stuff. I guess we can all take turns teaching them stuff. You know, they can go on field trips to the kitchen to irritate Frypan.”

“As if Fry would ever let them in his kitchen.” Gally laughs, and gestures for Newt to follow him around the back. “I was going to ask Jorge if he wanted to teach. He’s one of the oldest here, and he probably knows the most. He’ll have been alive when schools were normal, or something normal, anyway.”

It’s a good point. Newt can’t remember every sitting in a classroom, though he sort of has an abstract memory of it. And he has vague pieces of knowledge, like maths and some science and history and things, but he can’t remember ever having learned it.

“Jorge would be good at it, I reckon. Harriet, too, maybe, and you know, maybe I can teach a bit. I know a thing or two about survival.” He jokes, running a hand over his chest in reference to the scar he knows is underneath his chest, a permanent reminder of what he’s been through.

“Good point. Maybe I can teach them about living with one good lung.” Gally shoots back, and Newt is glad that he’s able to joke with Gally. Minho’s been pretty good about it, and Fry too, but they both still look a little scared sometimes, like they think Newt will disappear any minute if they don’t watch him close enough.

He hasn’t even though about joking around with Thomas about that. He wants to, and knows that they’ll get back to their old ways eventually, but right now everything feels too raw and too real and Newt thinks that if he did try to joke about that, he’d end up crying anyway.

He turns to say something else to Gally, and then everything kind of slows down. Gally shouts at him to watch out, but Newt’s reflexes aren’t what they used to be, and it’s all he can do to jolt when the plank of wood hits his head, and then he crumples straight to the ground.

“Thomas - don’t tell - “ He groans out, but hears one of the younger kids shout that they’ll get Thomas immediately, which is exactly what Newt didn’t want, and then he’s being manoeuvred into a sitting position as Gally, who’s visibly panicked, cranes over to look at his head.

“Oh, thank God, it’s not bleeding.” Gally mutters and someone pushes a bottle of water into Newt’s hands and he gulps from it greedily.

“Only just got to the Safe Haven and you shanks are already trying to kill me.” Newt teases, but he manages to push himself to his feet and cradles his head.

He can only hope that Thomas doesn’t overreact.


	7. i'm an atom in a sea of nothing

He’s never felt fear like this before, as he stands and looks at Flynn, one of the WCKD kids, who’s just coming running up to them and then hasn’t said anything apart from “It’s Newt.”

Thomas’s heart clenches, skips a beat, and then he swears it stops. “Newt what?” He asks, and he can practically hear the venom seeping off his tongue, “Newt _what_?” He’s shouting now, and takes a step so that he’s standing right in Flynn’s face, so close he can see the fear on his face.

“Thomas, calm down.” Minho’s at his side in an instant, and Thomas can’t even remember Minho coming over, only that he’s suddenly there, like he always is. Minho’s shaking a little, and Thomas can see the fear in his eyes, the one that Thomas feels deep in his core.

It’s the fear that they’ve only just got Newt back, and now they’re going to lose him all over again. “What is it, Flynn?” Minho asks, and his voice is only slightly less terrified than Thomas’s, but he manages to conduct himself with a remarkable amount of self control.

“Newt got hurt. Over with Gally, where they’re building that new hut.” Flynn says quickly, and he’s talking almost too fast to understand now - probably from nerves, and Thomas is going to have to apologise later. Right now, all he can focus on is the agonising pain he feels seeping into his stomach.

He allows a second for Flynn’s words to set in before he’s turning and running to where he knows Gally will be. Adrenaline floods his body, something he hasn’t felt for a while, and he’s there before he even realises.

“Where is he?” Thomas demands, and Gally starts speaking about how Newt’s fine and everything’s okay, and despite all the progress they’ve made, Thomas wants to punch him so badly in that moment.

“Tommy, I’m fine.”

Relief is like a drug to him by this point, and when he turns to see Newt standing, looking slightly dizzied and wearing a bandage, he feels like throwing up.

He runs forward two steps and he’s trembling as he holds Newt at arms length for a moment, before he leans forward and their foreheads meet, and he has to shut his eyes because looking at Newt then is too much. “Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

“Stop - stop getting hurt. It’s like I can’t protect you from anything. I’m - you’re driving me insane.” Thomas whispers helplessly, his hands flying from Newt’s cheeks to his arms and he can’t focus. He can’t think about anything but Newt, and how easy it is for him to get hurt.

“Tommy, calm down.” Newt’s whispering now, too, and suddenly Thomas is pulled back all the way to the outskirts of the Last City, when Newt had calmed him down after they’d met up with Gally again.

“I _can’t_.” Thomas shouts suddenly and he pulls away and the silence is deafening as he and Newt stand, looking at each other. “I can’t calm down, because I can’t keep watching you get hurt. You’re - you’re making me crazy.”

“Why?” Newt’s voice is barely audible and Thomas can’t lie to him anymore, no matter how much he kind of wants to.

“ _Because I’m in love with you!_ ” He explodes and he doesn’t know who moves first but he’s pulling them together and pressing his lips to Newt’s desperately, like the world starts and ends with him. It doesn’t feel like fireworks; instead, it’s a low, warm pressure in the bottom of his stomach, and it’s an overwhelming sense of right that makes him shudder.

They kiss for a long moment, and everything else just melts away. It’s just them, just Newt-and-Thomas, and Thomas feels like he could cry from how good it feels. He vaguely acknowledges the sound of Minho wolf-whistling and briefly considers flipping him off before figuring that actually, he’d rather just kiss Newt.

He tilts Newt’s head and deepens the kiss and that’s when Newt pulls away and taps his cheek twice gently in a wordless communication that they should talk.

“We should talk.” Thomas decides to say next, and Newt nods but he’s blushing so hard that Thomas can’t help but bring him in again for a small kiss, barely touching their lips together. It’s just a gentle brush of later, a quiet allusion to what’s going to happen later on in that day and he revels in the way Newt shivers a little.

They walk quietly to the woods behind the hut, and keep moving until they’re out of sight from everyone else.

“So . . . “ Thomas begins, and he doesn’t know why it suddenly feels so real to be talking about it given that he literally just made out with Newt in front of about four people.

“You’re in love with me.” Newt’s voice is quiet again and for a terrifying minute Thomas thinks that Newt doesn’t feel the same, until he sees the shit-eating grin that tugs against Newt’s lips. It’s an expression he hasn’t seen on Newt’s face in a long time, in too long, and he makes a silent vow then that he’ll do whatever he can to make sure it never leaves again.

“Yes.”

“Took you bloody long enough.” Newt laughs a little, and turns to caress Thomas’s cheek. It’s Thomas’s turn to shiver now, and turn to kiss Newt’s palm, loving the way it feels against his skin.

“Huh?” Thomas can’t help but ask. He knows what Newt’s trying to say, but he wants to hear Newt actually say it, wants verbal confirmation. Given what they’ve all been through, he doesn’t think it’s too much to ask. After all, he could’ve avoided a lot if people had just told him things he needed to know.

“Tommy.” Newt’s eyeing him with a look that Thomas has seen a couple times before. It’s torn between overwhelmingly fond and exasperated, the kind of look Newt has given him when Thomas has suggested stupid, over-the-top plans, and everyone else had told him how stupid they were but Newt had always been the one to entertain his idiotic suicide missions. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you ran into the maze. Maybe even before then.”

“You love me?”

“Yes, you buggin’ idiot, I love you.”

Thomas joins their lips again, then, and finds that he’s smiling so much that he hardly works, but he doesn’t care, because it’s Newt. It’s Newt. He pushes Newt up against one of the trees and deepens the kiss now, with more meaning that before, and pulls away only for a second before he’s trailing a kiss down Newt’s neck and the sound Newt makes in response is going to be playing over and over in his head forever.

“Tommy,” Newt sighs and it’s so loving that Thomas has to stop and just look at him for a full minute, just breathing in and out as he watches Newt.

“You loved me before?” Thomas presses, because now that he knows Newt loves him, he wants to know everything. “Before the Maze?”

“I think so. I don’t know exactly, but I’ve been having these dreams recently. More like memories, I reckon. You know how Lizzy - Sonya -’s been getting all these memories back? I think maybe I’m having the same thing.”

They walk a little further into the woods, until they arrive at Thomas’s favourite place on the whole island. It’s a waterfall, clean and beautiful, one that they had found pretty quickly into their arrival when Vince had started fretting about clean water. Thomas hadn’t been awake for that, but according to Aris, the waterfall had been a lifeline for them.

Newt felt like a lifeline for Thomas.

“Tell me about them?” Thomas asks suddenly, once they’re standing at the bottom of the waterfall, by the large pool of water. He already knows Newt’s memories better than anyone else he’s ever met, would know Newt blind if he had to. He feels as though he and Newt have loved each other in every universe there is, that in every possible one, they find each other.

It’s a comforting thought, one that he quite likes the idea of. That maybe in another universe, the world hasn’t been scorched by the sun. Maybe he and Newt meet in a coffee shop, or in highschool, or at a rock concert. They’re all just ideas, things Thomas remembers abstractly but has no actual memories of.

“I remember us together, laughing. You tripped over something and we ended up tangled on the floor. This was a while ago, I think, when we were younger. Before the Glade, definitely.”

“I like that memory.” Thomas says in reply, and then he turns and reaches into the water that laps at their feet, splashing some at Newt.

He retaliates instantly with a splash of his own and suddenly they’re tugging their shirts and trousers off and are both diving into the water wearing just their underwear, pushing each other underneath the clear water and laughing together.

Thomas only stills when they come up for air and he sees Newt’s chest. There’s a scar, right in the middle of his chest, one which is undoubtedly from the knife.

Thomas exhales noisily and his hand comes up, hovering in front of the scar but not touching, not until Newt takes his hand and places it over the scar.

“It’s okay, Tommy,” Newt says, and for the first time, it feels like maybe it is. Teresa is still dead, all of their friends are, and Thomas has to carry that for the rest of his life, but maybe he can grieve them, and things can be okay, too.

“I’m still sorry.” Thomas replies, and Newt brings him closer and presses their lips together again, only this time it’s even better because Thomas can feel Newt’s chest against his.

When they pull away, they look at each other for a long moment and Thomas feels like he’s finally whole again. He sort of gets what Harriet meant about him not being whole without Newt, because he feels like everything has slotted into place now.

“We should - we should get back, huh?” Newt breathes out, and his voice sounds a little caught, and Thomas leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead before he can talk himself out of it.

“Guess so. Minho’s going to wonder where we are.” Thomas grins, then, and points out the obvious. “He’s going to be the third wheel now.”

Newt shakes his head and clambers out of the water, standing on the bank. His feet are in the grass and water drips from his cheeks and Thomas feels that same distinctive tug deep in his gut at the sight of it. “Nah, Min’ll never third wheel. He’s too bloody loud.”

“True. I can’t imagine him ever being on the sidelines.” Thomas teases, and pulls his shirt over his head. It’s damp and sticks to his skin, so not a pleasant feeling, but even that can’t dampen his good mood.

It still feels like some kind of dream, being with Newt like this. He almost feels like he must owe the world something in exchange for the quietness he gets to have now, with Newt, until he realises he’s given everything to the world already. He deserves to take a little back.

“There’s that thinking face.” Newt quips, and Thomas tilts his head a little, narrowing his eyes in the same teasing way he had a long time ago.

“Not thinking. Just… I’m happy, I guess.” Thomas admits. For some stupid reason, it’s almost terrifying, admitting that he’s happy. Maybe it’s because anytime he’s been happy before, the world has found a way to steal it from him. He can’t lose Newt again.

“That was believable.” Newt laughs, and they join their hands and then they’re heading back to where everyone else is. Thomas hadn’t realised how much time had passed but he can tell by the noise that it’s approaching time for dinner now.

“Thomas!” Jorge calls out, and walks over to the two of them. He wraps Thomas into a hug first, then Newt, and it’s only then that he sees that their joined hands. “Ah, you figured that one out then. Come on, it’s dinner.”

Thomas just makes a face of ‘let’s not ask’ at Newt, because he’s become accustomed now to Jorge always somehow knowing everything without ever telling them how, and it’s easier to just let it be. They arrive at the table, which has expanded from its’ previous four inhabitants and now holds Harriet, Sonya and Aris, too, as well as Brenda and Jorge.

Echo’s there, too, though she’s sitting at the end of the table, besides Minho, like she feels more comfortable if she can slip away quickly, unnoticed.

Thomas sits in between Minho and Newt, and grins when Newt and Sonya start bickering quietly, Sonya teasing Newt about the marks on his neck, which makes Thomas blush and look away.

“Aw, Mommy and Daddy are together again.” Brenda teases, and Thomas flicks one of his carrots at her, and Fry loudly protests about no wasting food, so he and Brenda fix each other which looks of ‘this is not over’ and then both grin at the same time.

“I think the whole point is that there’s no girl involved.” Gally observes loudly, and Thomas shoots him a look and makes a comment about Brenda which shuts Gally up efficiently and makes Brenda smirk and look down at the table.

“I’m just glad you’re both happy.” Aris says seriously, and Thomas appreciates that a lot, especially from Aris, who has no reason to be so damn nice to Thomas, after Thomas let him get tortured by WCKD for six months, and yet Aris is still so earnestly open and kind.

“It’s weird.” Sonya observes, and the table turns to look for her. She kind of has this way of speaking that makes everyone shut up and listen to what she has to say. “I always imagined this but now it’s here, it just feels normal.”

She smiles, and Newt does too, and then they both reach up and scratch their noses at the same time which makes the table fall about laughing. Thomas catches Newt’s eye, and Newt gestures to Sonya and mouths a ‘thank you.’ Thomas doesn’t know what it’s for - for the kisses, for keeping Sonya safe, or for everything in between.

Maybe it’s just a thank you for everything they have so far. He can handle that kind of thank you. It’s only been scarcely four years of knowing Newt, and there’s still moments where Thomas feels like he’s known him his entire life. Maybe he has, given Newt’s memories.

“Lizzy, didn’t you say you’d had memories?” Newt asks, and Sonya nods and goes into detail about a memory of her and Newt, before she asks why.

“I think that we knew each other before the Glade. Me and Tommy definitely did, I remembered it.”

“You probably did.” Jorge observes, “I think you were all in that compound long before they sent you up.” Thomas forgets sometimes that Jorge had watched the world fall apart, and he feels a sudden newfound sense of respect for him.

“Winston would’ve loved it here.” Frypan says suddenly. “He’d have worked with the farmers, I bet, and tried to help cook but he’d have been godawful at it.”

“Ben would have finally got to relax.” Gally replies, and smiles down at his plate. “Never saw him relax, I swear, in all the time I knew him.”

“Chuck would’ve fit in with the kids.” Thomas notes, and pretends he can’t feel the stares at him willingly sharing something about Chuck. “Though I bet he’d have started up that toilet prank again.”

Gally explodes with a shout of ‘It was him?!” and then the Gladers start to explain the toilet prank to the others, about how Chuck would wait until people were inside the toilet and then would shriek loudly just to scare them.

Thomas just links his hand with Newt’s under the table and feels Newt squeeze it three times. He squeezes back, and then feels Newt press a kiss onto his cheek.

This, right here, is all he needs. His family. Being here now with them makes it all worth it. Every loss, every sacrifice, every fight and cut and every death. It makes it all worth it.

Being here with Newt makes everything worth it.


	8. looking for another to combine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you made it! honestly, i debated not having this final chapter and i was going to leave it at just seven. however, i felt like it started with thomas's POV and so i wanted to end with newt's.
> 
> i hope you've loved this au world i've made, and i hope that it helps heal your hearts a little.
> 
> as always, i do not own any of the characters aside from echo, who is an original character of mine. all rights go to james dashner.
> 
> please come talk to me on tumblr! @sunshinesrose

Newt startles awake, and for a minute he doesn’t know where he is, until he feels the steady, all consuming weight of Thomas’s arm draped across his waist. It’s nice, a comfort, reminding him that Thomas is there and he isn’t leaving anytime soon.

  
It’s a nice thought, that Thomas is going to be there with him forever. Newt had never even entertained the possibility of growing old, not when he’s nineteen (?) and has already nearly died more times than he can count. Here, in the Safe Haven, he’s not going to expect it, per say, but at least he can fantasise about the idea now without it being completely unrealistic.

Then again, the idea of Minho as an old man terrifies him a bit. The idea of Minho with kids is even more terrifying, and then Newt starts thinking about him and Thomas with kids, and now he’s definitely getting ahead of himself.

Because he certainly hasn’t ever thought about having kids before. That feels completely unrealistic even now that he’s in the Safe Haven, and he can almost picture it, but it’s fuzzy and not something he can really envision.

Besides, he and Thomas have only been together for about a week now. Newt’s not even really sure if they’re together together, or if they’re just acting like they’re best friends who kiss and do . . . other things.

It’s not like Newt is going to ask Thomas to be his boyfriend, because boyfriend feels too insignificant and simplified for what they have. What they have is more than just boyfriends, so much more, and it feels weird to call it something so simple.

Beside him, Thomas groans and rolls over, his arm fully over Newt’s waist now, Thomas’s face pressed right into his neck. “G’morning,” Thomas mumbles into his neck, and Newt feels so incredibly full in that moment.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty.” Newt quips, pushing himself onto his forearms, and looking down to where Thomas groans in protests and shoves his head into Newt’s lap, obviously in favour of falling back asleep.

“Tommy, we have to get up, come on. The others left hours ago.” It’s a little bit of a lie, because really, Gally only left about forty minutes ago, but Thomas doesn’t need to know that.

“No, we can just stay here.” Thomas whispers, and pulls Newt down so that they’re facing each other.

“Hi,” Newt whispers, and feels his heart skip a beat when Thomas brushes their lips together.

“Hi,” Thomas says back, and then rolls onto his back and pulls Newt on top of him. “We’re alone.” He grins, looking around the small hut and then turning back to Newt and pulling their lips together again.

  
“I noticed.” Newt whispers, in between kisses, but lets Thomas kiss him anyway, until Thomas is sliding his hands in Newt’s hair and Newt is sitting fully in his lap.

They keep kissing, and for a second it feels like maybe they’re going to tip into more than kissing, and then the sound of Brenda banging on the hut door interrupts them, and Newt can’t help but drop his head onto Thomas’s chest and laughing.

“You two, get up, Jorge wants to talk to us!” Brenda shouts into the room, and then, after, “And Gally says that you two aren’t as quiet as you think you are, so he’s suggested that you move to a different hut.”

The two of them exchange a guilty, somewhat embarrassed look, and then Newt rolls off Thomas and grabs a pair of his trousers from the floor beside their bed, which is actually two beds pushed together, just with one mattress spread across them both.

“Alright, Bren!” Thomas shouts out, and then they hear her retreat, and a soft silence falls over the room again.

“Would you want to? Move huts, I mean?” Thomas asks him, then, and Newt can’t help but joke about it, mock-fawning and fanning himself with his hands like he’s suddenly overcome with emotion.

“Are you asking me to move in with you, Tommy?” Newt teases, but then he returns to sincerity and smiles at Thomas. “I don’t know. I mean, would you?”

“I haven’t had a nightmare for a while, since you got back.” Thomas admits, and they both look at each other and blush, before Newt takes a step closer and leans up to pull Thomas into a soft kiss.

“Are we - like, what are we?” Newt pushes himself to ask. He’s a little scared, but it’s more anxiety than fear, because he’s never been scared of Thomas in his life. He trusts Thomas with everything; there’s never been a reason for him to be scared before, and there certainly isn’t now.

“I guess… boyfriends? If that’s - do you want to call it that? I don’t know.” Thomas looks a little nervous, too, and Newt thinks that they’re both stupid as he presses another kiss to Thomas’s cheek, muttering his agreement that he definitely wants them to be boyfriends.

“Yeah, you bloody idiot, I want to be your boyfriend.” It sounds so simple - almost too simple, if he’s being honest, because Newt is almost too accustomed to things being tricky and hard for him, and so it feels like it’s something that the universe is going to steal back from him if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

  
Newt turns and gestures that they should head outside, go and see what Jorge wanted to talk to the about, but it doesn’t feel urgent. For once, time is all they have together, and it feels slow, calming, and a wave of relief hits him at the realisation that he and Thomas don’t have to rush things anymore.

Thomas pulls on a shirt and then suddenly leans in and wraps Newt in a hug. They stand still for a moment, holding each other, and then Thomas turns and heads out of the small hut.

Newt hesitates for a moment, before he follows him. His eyes glance over the room once, and land on the yellow curtains, which have thus far proved to be absolutely useless at keeping out the light.

He doesn’t know why they catch his eye, but he can’t help looking at them all the same, and allows himself a small, private small before he turns and runs to catch up with Thomas - with his _boyfriend_.

The yellow curtains sway in the wind, and he knows he’s at home.


End file.
